Beyond Belief
by Snowflakes-GSR
Summary: Greg is diagnosed with a condition, which will affect all the CSI's. Thanks for all the reviews. ::complete::
1. Chapter 1

Author: Lithium – Infected – Shamrock (LIS)  
  
Spoilers: Inside the Box. [important to have seen the episode]  
  
Paring: None [that I can think of…]  
  
Authors note:   
  
Context changes the meaning of everything, seeing something in context, makes it what it is.   
  
If a persons hands shake after an explosion: its posttraumatic stress.  
  
If a persons hands shake at any other time: it could be construed as much more.   
  
  
  
----------  
  
It's not like pain. Pain you know you cant control; well, minus pain killers. Pain is good; it has a reason, it warns us, it tells us something is wrong. Like evidence.   
  
Pain is evidence.   
  
Tremors are something else.   
  
They have no meaning; there is no control. They aren't telling us something. You have no control, they happen. You can do nothing about them.   
  
Tremors are like Witness statements. They have no purpose. They just inform something is wrong, rather than alerting us to what is wrong. They're misleading.   
  
Neuromuscular disorders have a thousand different causes. One movement could lead to a thousand different possibilities.   
  
Greg knew this.   
  
The MRI was a scary experience. Going in for a brain scan, and not only having to remove his shirt, because of a metal component. They acted so calmly; this result could determine the rest of his life.   
  
Lying in the scanner, Greg thought of so many things, contemplating every aspect of his life. His thoughts where occasionally interrupted with, "this ones 8 minutes long, keep as still as possible."  
  
Greg didn't even know why they played the music, he couldn't hear it over the noise of the machine, it was like the loudest base notes he'd ever heard.   
  
Base. Music. Lab.   
  
He wondered what they were doing. He'd tried – tried to ask someone to come with him – to tell them – but he couldn't.   
  
How do you tell someone that you have something wrong with you that doesn't have a diagnosis yet?  
  
He felt so isolated; the scanning only enhanced it. The head brace mean he could only see above him. He could barely move – he knew he had to keep still.   
  
So many diseases; Motor Neurone Disease, Parkinson's, Brain Cancer, Brain legions, some form of epilepsy…Greg feared each and every one.   
  
The blood tests weren't so bad. Although hiding the purple/blue bruise it left behind was – wearing long-sleeved shirts wasn't advisable in the heat.   
  
Cholesterol. Electrolytes. Calcium. Magnesium. Liver function. Kidney function. TB…. the list truly did go on and on.   
  
Finally the neurological exam.   
  
And after all the waiting, you find out.  
  
Parkinson's.   
  
And then they offer you drugs; they offer you drugs without even warning of the side effects.   
  
And you feel so alone.   
  
+-+-+  
  
"It'll stop. If you need me, I'll be around." Grissom said, leaving the room.   
  
He was briefly thankful for the explosion; working around CSI's taught you how to lie convincingly. And he wasn't really lying.   
  
Greg continued to look at his hands. He couldn't control it. He couldn't control part of himself.   
  
And Greg knew it wouldn't stop.   
  
And he felt the sickness deep inside. What happens if this did affect his work?   
  
He closed his eyes, and considered Grissom's offer.   
  
------  
  
Do I continue? 


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you for the reviews. I really appreciate them all; they make my day.   
  
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Grissom sat his desk. It's amazing how we perceive a room to be quiet, but it never is.   
  
You only realise that when the minute sounds are drowned out. Then visual perceptions become the main focus.   
  
You notice how the draft from the almost-shut window moves the papers on the edge of your desk.   
  
You feel isolated. Everyone is sharing something; sound, and you have a method of understanding the world taken away.   
  
But sound wasn't necessary.  
  
You can tell when a member of your own team is upset. You can see it in their eyes; the way they compose themselves.   
  
The way they breathe.   
  
But sound is important. Sight alerts us that there is something wrong, sound tells us what it is.   
  
Grissom knew that Greg was going to enter his office, before he did; maybe even before Greg knew he would.   
  
And when the sound returns; its like re-joining the world. And you forget the moment of absence.   
  
And although you know you can adapt to a life without sound.  
  
You're grateful for its return.  
  
But of course, sound never went away.  
  
You did.   
  
"Griss," Greg said quietly, entering the room. Light danced upon the rims of his eyes, where the tears were forming.  
  
"Sit down," Grissom said, escalating concern appearing on his face.   
  
Ever since the accident, Grissom had felt much concern about Greg. Being involved in an explosion must be traumatic for anyone; returning to the scene of the explosion, must only worsen the feelings.   
  
Greg sat down, his nervousness echoed by his restless façade. That's another problem with diseases. You never know if a new symptom is real, or simply anxiety.   
  
To be lost between not knowing if your condition is worsening, or you're just getting more anxious.   
  
"What is it?" Grissom questioned, very aware of Greg's hypersensitive movements.  
  
Greg searched for the words, looked above him, looked below. Finally, he just looked at Grissom, and gave him a helpless smile. Greg always felt nervous around Grissom.   
  
Grissom saw the confusion, the helplessness in Greg's eyes, he looked to his hands, placed on either knee.   
  
"They stopped shaking," he observed.   
  
Greg smiled, holding back the tears, feeling the knot in his stomach tighten, feeling the fire-like burning down his body.   
  
The indecision; to tell, or not to tell. He'd hidden his condition quite successfully so far.   
  
When you're only around people for 12 hours of the day, and most of that time they're on assignments; and the times they do see you, all they care about is the evidence, they only see you for fleeting moments, then you're alone again.   
  
Greg sighed. It would be easier to think that's all they cared about; easier to think that they wouldn't care he was sick.   
  
"They'll start again," Greg said with certainty. Greg looked down to them, and flexed his hands in unison.  
  
You know you have control now.   
  
But later, something else will control them.   
  
Grissom looked at Greg, questioning his statement. Greg was rarely cryptic, but when he was, it revealed a whole new level to him.   
  
Greg saw the questioning, and exhaled sharply. The fire of indecision turned into a pain of regretted with each word.   
  
"I have Parkinson's" Greg said, his tone deceiving. It sounded like the most natural thing in the world to say, but inside, it felt so, sad and unreal.   
  
Grissom closed his eyes, trying to absorb the information he'd been presented with.   
  
He opened his eyes; saddened with disbelief, "how long?" he blurted out.   
  
"A while," Greg said, slightly afraid of Grissom's reaction. Greg only wanted one thing from this conversation.   
  
An answer.  
  
But he didn't even know how to phrase the question.   
  
And the answer he wanted, he knew he might not receive.   
  
Grissom couldn't help to cast a look of pity over Greg. He knew what it was like to have a degenerative disease; but at least he had warning.   
  
Greg had done something Grissom felt he could never do; confide in someone.   
  
Greg sighed, he felt awkward in the silence, he was always desperate to break silence between him and Grissom.   
  
Greg felt that Grissom analysed him, Greg was always afraid Grissom may see something in him, something that even he didn't know about.  
  
And he may judge him.   
  
"Are you taking anything?" Grissom enquired, dealing with a crisis the only way he knew how. Obtaining information on it.   
  
"I've been given drugs." Greg said, suddenly becoming very self-confident. He felt ashamed. He didn't want to be questioned like this. Yet, he couldn't leave; he needed to know, he needed to ask his question.   
  
Could he continue being a 'lab rat.'  
  
"Are they working?" Grissom said, trying not to sound to hopeful.   
  
"I haven't really been taking them," Greg quietly admitted. Something about taking a drug, which had side effects that seemed to be endless, was scary, scarier than the actual condition.  
  
"Greg! You can't hope this will go away!" Grissom exclaimed, but seeing the look in Greg's eyes softened his response.   
  
Grissom knew he was being hypocritical. He hoped that his condition would go away; irrational thinking. But now, he knew, he couldn't project his medical condition onto Greg.  
  
They were two separate things.   
  
Grissom's best way of coping was to compartmentalise.   
  
Separate yourself.   
  
Home.  
  
Work.  
  
People.  
  
"I know that Grissom! I will take them! It's just……I want to know if I can still work……with this." Greg said shakily.   
  
"You said it hasn't affected your work so far?" Grissom questioned.  
  
"No, but we both know that it probably will eventually." Greg said defeated. He didn't want false hope. He didn't want to give false hope either.   
  
"Take your medication Greg. Carry on working; trial basis. We'll just play this by ear," Grissom said, trying to sound positive.   
  
"I will." He responded, Greg knew he would have to take the drug cocktail sooner or later. "Could you, erm, find out for me what it says in departmental rules about…Parkinson's?" Greg didn't want to ask for Grissom's help, but he knew he needed it.   
  
"There are no definite rules Greg, Parkinson's isn't always fully affecting an individual all the time, so it's taken on a case-by-case basis." Grissom said knowledgably.   
  
"How do you know all about the disabilities rules act?" Greg said, with a puzzled expression.   
  
"I just do," Grissom replied coolly.   
  
Greg lightly smiled at grissom, "Thanks Grissom. I appreciate this," before departing.   
  
Grissom sighed sadly, and opened a draw in his desk.   
  
He pulled out a book, "Departmental procedures," its spine was worn, and the pages were slightly curled, indicating its frequent use.   
  
Grissom opened it to a previously marked page, "Disabilities in the workplace," and began to read the text that he'd read so many times before.   
  
+_+_+_  
  
Please review. 


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks for the reviews. – They're really encouraging – you guys are great!   
  
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The morning sun tore trough the thin lined curtains, and pooled onto the floor.   
  
Greg wasn't aware of the sun. He knew he should be asleep, it was morning.   
  
He was a lab rat, he should only know the dark hours.   
  
But he needed answers. More answers.   
  
He had resulted to what he felt his only option was.   
  
The Internet. The www. The information Superhighway.   
  
A way to make sense of what apparently didn't make sense. He didn't have questions such as, 'why me,' he was thankful for scientific logic.   
  
Scientific logic dictated: 'Bad things happen.'   
  
Greg reached for the volume control on his hi-fi. For once he wasn't listening to the music for the sounds created, but more to block out the silence.   
  
Search engine inquiry: Parkinson's.  
  
Results: 379,000.   
  
Greg sighed at the monitor. "That many huh?" he said quietly to himself.   
  
He clicked on a link, www.parkinsonsaction.org  
  
"Parkinson's is the biological opposite of Alzheimer's disease: while Alzheimer's destroys the mind, leaving the body intact and functioning, Parkinson's destroys the body's ability to function, taking away the physical abilities necessary to daily life while leaving the mind prisoner inside the body."  
  
Greg sighed. He didn't want to know this, for now, it wasn't important.   
  
It wasn't important what was taking away his control.   
  
He just wanted to know how to stop it.   
  
Ultimately; that would be drugs.   
  
New search.   
  
Search engine inquiry: Eldepryl   
  
Results: 10,900  
  
Greg sighed again. He felt the panic and confusion wash over him. It felt like his clothes were strangling him.  
  
He closed his eyes, and put his head in his hands, and leaned towards the floor. He could feel the arguments forming in his head.   
  
'Just take the damn pills – if they were that unsafe – they wouldn't prescribe them – would they?'  
  
'It could be something else – doctors misdiagnose patients – they can't be certain.'   
  
He slowly rose up – his body felt stiff – another symptom – or working to late again? He picked up the bottles – he'd been prescribed two medications.   
  
He's thoroughly read leaflets. He knew how to take it. He knew the side effects.   
  
He just felt like he was giving in – after all – it's easy to cope with a shake in your hand?  
  
Giving it a scientific name – essential tremor – does not make it more life threatening.   
  
He placed the bottles down, exhaled, and ran his fingers through his hair, it was covered in sweat.   
  
He unscrewed the bottles, and laid out the pills.  
  
They were so small.   
  
He picked up the glass of water, his hand shook, but he was positive it was nerves – not…. anything else. 'The' name of his condition kept swirling around in his head, but he couldn't actively put it into a sentence.   
  
That would make it real.   
  
This was a dream. It had to be.   
  
But Greg knew it wasn't a dream.   
  
He stared at the tablets for a long time, considering, before taking them and swallowing hard.   
  
He leaned back on the chair, and tried to suppress both the reflux action, and stem the flow of tears.   
  
'Today is the first day of the rest of your life……" he thought, holding himself.   
  
'………And tomorrow, your going to have to tell them." He thought, as he felt the threat of nausea sway his whole body.   
  
_=_=_=_  
  
I know this is a short chapter; I just wanted to show the confusion, uncertainty and fear of being diagnosed with something. 


	4. Chapter 4

Grissom sat in silence. The discovery channel was on, but had a blinking green signal on the screen, indicating the channel was muted.   
  
There were no close captions or subtitles visible.   
  
Until a few minutes ago, he'd been trying to lip read the commentary, a difficult feat when the person talking turned away from the camera, or it switch to narration; or what Grissom assumed was narration.   
  
But his thoughts had now wandered. They had returned to Greg, mainly, the state he was in when he left the office.   
  
Grissom hadn't known how to react. He hadn't seen it coming.   
  
For any other person, they would have told themselves, 'you can't predict these things.'  
  
But not Gil Grissom. Not a CSI.   
  
He closed his eyes; he tried to remember every time he'd been n the lab with Greg. He hadn't seen any since; but he hadn't really been in the lab much.   
  
He exhaled sharply. From general medical knowledge he knew the effects of Parkinson's. It just seemed so unreal that Greg had the condition.   
  
Condition? Disease?   
  
Grissom didn't see his 'disease' as that. It wasn't that he saw it as an opportunity; he just didn't see it for what it really was.   
  
He was determined to let Greg stay.   
  
Grissom was also determined to stay. Hearing or no hearing.   
  
He hated prejudice.   
  
He softly groaned when he thought of how the team would react – that was if Greg was willing to tell them.   
  
He couldn't make Greg tell them; after all, he hadn't told anyone about his hearing problem.   
  
But Greg wasn't like him. He enjoyed the company of others, whereas he didn't mind being isolated.   
  
It's easier to hide temporary deafness than a tremor.   
  
And Grissom closed his eyes; he knew he couldn't hide it forever.   
  
======  
  
Ok, the last 4 chapters have been about Greg and Grissom……but the next chapter brings in the other CSI's…how will they react?  
  
Short chapter, but the next one will be longer, much longer; I promise. Thanks for the reviews – I really appreciate them. 


	5. Chapter 5

Greg managed to put his lab coat on, but with great difficulty. His back felt stiff; it was either a symptom, or a sign that sleeping in a chair is not good for your back.   
  
What little sleep he had.   
  
Agonising on whether to tell them. Whether it was worth it or not.   
  
He closed his eyes. He couldn't hide it forever. This was a lab; and they were CSI's. But it wouldn't make it any easier.   
  
Greg had decided to tell them before shift. Originally, he was going to wait until after, but this way, they would have time to….adjust.  
  
He had no-idea how they would react. Grissom hadn't even flinched, but that's the way Grissom was. He kept his emotions in check. Most of the time.   
  
The other CSI's were a different matter. Numerous times he'd seen them go to pieces on a case.   
  
Would they treat him like a case? Would they simply deal with him as far as they had to, then ignore him? Would they still want to work with him?   
  
Questions. Scenarios. Greg tried to work everything out in his mind.   
  
But like experiments, theory can only take you so far.   
  
*(-)*  
  
"Sara, Warrick, you have a suspicious death," Grissom announced, passing Warrick a case folder.   
  
"What are you doing then?" Catherine questioned, looking up from her case file. Grissom had assigned everyone a case except himself. It didn't surprise her; these days, he hardly worked cases at all.   
  
"Paperwork," Grissom said grimly, having to fill in financial request forms for human resources was not what he signed up for.   
  
There was a small series of taps at the door, followed by Greg entering.   
  
"Hey Greg," Nick called, on Greg's entrance. Greg just took a small glance at him, then returned his gaze to Grissom.   
  
Catherine mouthed, "what's up?" to Nick, who shrugged in bewilderment.   
  
"Is it ok if I talk to everyone?" Greg asked Grissom seriously.   
  
Grissom's face held a moment of confusion before he realised. Greg was going to do something he couldn't; admit to the team that he had a problem.   
  
Grissom's expression softened, "sure," he said simply, and sat down with the rest of the team.   
  
"I have an announcement to make," he said shakily. He was so nervous. He'd thought of all the different ways of telling him, the best one still being; 'get to the point.'  
  
"Are you pregnant?" Nick joked, but he received no smiles, everyone's eyes were focused attentively on Greg.   
  
"Erm, no. I have Parkinson's disease." He admitted, voice still wavering.   
  
He waited for the response.   
  
Silence.   
  
Nicks mind reeled from his previous comment; 'He isn't going to forgive me for that, is he?'   
  
He's going to get better, isn't he?  
  
Sara looked to the door. No giggling lab techs; this had to be real. Then her stare moved from Greg to Grissom. He didn't seem shocked. He knew. Grissom knew.   
  
This couldn't be real. Not Greg.   
  
Warrick felt rage. Rage that something like this could happen to someone so young. He felt so frustrated; if someone had hurt Greg, he could do something.   
  
Greg's a fighter – he'll beat this.   
  
Catherine regarded him. She felt sick. First the explosion; something she felt responsible for, now this.   
  
Greg's too young for this.   
  
Grissom felt overwhelming admiration for Greg. He'd 'bitten the bullet' so to speak. His pity fell on both Greg and his team.   
  
+-+  
  
Thanks for the reviews – you guys are to kind! I also want to say thanks to the people who've put this story [and me!] on their fav's list.   
  
Don't worry – I will go further into what the CSI's are feeling. Much further. 


	6. Chapter 6

"Parkinson's," Warrick exhaled in a hushed tone.   
  
"Yeah," Greg responded, this wasn't the reaction he had expected. He expected more talking…less silence.   
  
"I have a case," Catherine said, and walked out, without looking at Greg. Greg watched her leave, very confused by her actions.   
  
She didn't even say anything. She just left.   
  
Warrick got up to follow Catherine, but he paused as he passed Greg, and pattered him on the back. "I'm sorry man," he said quietly, "I better check on her," he said, indicating to the door.   
  
Greg exhaled angrily, and gritted his teeth. Everyone was leaving. No one was even trying to comfort him.   
  
'Why did I tell them?' He thought angrily, and sat down in the chair Warrick had vacated. He folded his arms on the table, and laid his head on them.  
  
"Greg, I don't know what to say…" Nick said, his voice shocked.   
  
Greg raised his head a little, "Then don't say anything," Greg said sarcastically.   
  
They didn't want him. Or at least they didn't know the right things to say. Greg wasn't sure what kind of response to expect, but this…. wasn't it.   
  
"Fine." Nick said angrily. He couldn't believe it. He though Greg might have told him before everyone else. They were meant to be friends.   
  
He got up, and slammed his chair under the table, "you can't just tell us something like that……forget it" Nick said, and walked hurriedly out of the room.   
  
Grissom watched his team one-by-one leave the room. Now only he, Sara and Greg were left.   
  
Grissom looked to Sara, she was still staring at Greg. She looked like she was in shock.   
  
The suddenly Sara shot him an icy look, and looked between Grissom and the door. He knew what she was asking with her eyes. He reluctantly left the room.  
  
"Greg…" Sara said softly.   
  
He looked up, his eyes were dark, his expression heated. His skin looked flushed.   
  
"Sara, I don't want to hear it," Greg said with frustration. He wasn't sure what he didn't want to hear – he just didn't want anyone to talk to him – out of fear that they'd probably say the wrong thing.   
  
"You don't want to here it?" She said in disbelief, a determined look on her face.   
  
He sighed, and straightened himself up, he was sitting opposite her, he could see the worked-up expression in her eyes.   
  
"I'm sorry Sara," he said apologetically.   
  
"Don't be Greg……I just don't know what I'm meant to do." She admitted, a look of confusion in her eyes.   
  
"You don't have to do anything Sara," Greg smiled, "just keep being you," he grinned.   
  
This was the kind of response he was expecting. Well, it was better than earlier.   
  
She smiled lightly, more to mimic what Greg was doing, than because she was happy. She wasn't happy – not one bit.   
  
"I have a case to work on," she said languorously, "but we'll talk later – right?" she questioned.  
  
"Sure," Greg said in agreement.   
  
She got up and left the room.   
  
He was alone now. It wasn't the response he expected; but it was a response. At least Sara and Grissom were trying.   
  
'So is Nick,' He thought to himself, you just pushed him away.   
  
He got up. Well, he tried to, but it seemed his mind and body weren't connected for a moment. After several seconds he did get up. He went to the lab – he had DNA to check.   
  
He wasn't expecting Nick to be there – pacing next to his desk. He stopped when he saw Greg – and walked right up to him.   
  
"He knew, didn't he?" Nick said angrily, Greg merely pushed passed him, and sat down at his desk.  
  
"Who?" Greg said. It wasn't really a question – of course he knew he was referring to Grissom.   
  
"Grissom – that's who. He didn't seem shocked at all – he didn't even say anything to you. Who long has he known?" Nick yelled, his chest rapidly rising and falling.   
  
"I only told him yesterday, I just wanted to know if I could keep my job." Greg said defeated. There was no point trying to deny it. He just didn't understand why Nick was so angry.   
  
"Greg, its not just that," Nick began, his voice was lower, annoyed, "you don't just 'find out' something like this, you have tests……who went with you?" Nick was angry, he didn't know why, but he was directing that anger at Greg.   
  
Anyway, Greg should have told him. First. Didn't they're friendship mean anything?  
  
"……no one went with me!" Greg said, completely bewildered by his friends line of questioning. It was like he was jealous that Grissom had found out first.   
  
"……did you even consider asking me?" Nick asked calmly, although the rage was visible in his expression.   
  
"I didn't know what I had wrong Nick, I couldn't tell you…." Greg struggled to find the right words.   
  
"Man, that just doesn't cut it for me…" Nick began, but was cut of by Greg.   
  
"Get out," He said quietly.  
  
"What?" Nick said, completely confused.   
  
"Get out!" Greg yelled, not even looking at nick.   
  
Nick struggled to come up with a response, but decided it wasn't worth it. He exhaled sharply, then left the room.   
  
But Greg didn't want him to leave.   
  
He just didn't want him to see that his hands that he placed under the table were now shaking.   
  
'Let this medication work.' he thought to himself. We wished he'd taken it from the beginning, he knew it wouldn't start working after only a day.   
  
It needed time.   
  
Something Greg felt he didn't have.   
  
+_+_  
  
That shift, Greg hardly saw any of the CSI's. Occasionally, Sara would come in with evidence, they'd taken a break together, but for the entire 15 minutes, she made nervous small talk.   
  
Whenever he left his desk – and returned – results would be taken away – and fresh evidence left in its place.   
  
He didn't blame Nick – He's shouted at him.   
  
He had seen Warrick – briefly – twice, and he apologised for his – and Cath's behaviour.   
  
But he hadn't seen Cath at all – since she and Warrick were working a case together – he assumed that he brought the evidence in – and she stayed out in the field. Greg felt as though she was completely avoiding him.   
  
And he had no-idea why.  
  
+_+  
  
At the end of shift – Greg went to Grissom's office. The door was open – so he didn't even bother knocking.   
  
"They're not taking it well." He stated simply. Grissom indicated him to take a seat.   
  
"No?" Grissom questioned, he didn't seem surprised. He looked directly at Greg, something that made Greg feel very uncomfortable.   
  
Greg sighed, "Nick thinks I've betrayed him, Sara's…being herself. I think Warrick is in denial, and Cath hasn't spoken to me." He said reluctantly.   
  
Grissom closed his eyes. "Greg, do you watch TV?" He said plainly.   
  
  
  
There was a silence, followed by a confused "yea."  
  
"Do you watch soaps?" Grissom said, eyes now open.   
  
Greg looked embarrassed, and started to stutter an answer, until he saw Grissom's condemning look, which forced an answer from him, "yes" he responded.   
  
"Well Greg, this isn't TV – your friends aren't going to 'rally round' you and tell you everything's all right. It's a big deal." Grissom said forcefully, trying to soften the blow of the teams' earlier actions.   
  
"I just…"   
  
"….I know Greg," he said knowledgably, "they will be there for you. Eventually. Give them time." He insisted.   
  
Greg sat there for a few moments, processing the information. "Okay Griss, ill give them time." He said thoughtfully. He got up and headed for the door.   
  
"But Greg," Grissom said cautiously, "if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask me."   
  
+_+  
  
As always, I appreciate your reviews. Keep them coming. 


	7. Chapter 7

A/n: Thanks for the reviews – wow – you guys are taking some serious time out to write them. Thanks for all the support.   
  
---------------  
  
"Cath!" Greg exclaimed, as he saw the blonde hair woman in the car park.   
  
She stopped and turned. This gave him chance to catch up.   
  
"Sorry Greg," she said apologetically, "I need to get home, Lindsey…."she lied.   
  
"…Why have you been avoiding me," Greg directly questioned. His eyes bore holes in Cath, who was visually agitated; she kept turning round to look at her car.   
  
She didn't want to be here. She didn't want to talk to him right now. She needed time to think. She couldn't tell him what she was really feeling; it didn't even make sense to her, she shouldn't burden it on another.  
  
And Greg certainly had enough burdens to carry.   
  
Greg knew he wasn't following Grissom's advice – but he didn't care. Catherine wasn't acting like everyone else.   
  
"I…erm," Cath, usually confident in her speech began to stutter. She didn't know what to say, and Greg didn't look like he was going to let her leave without an answer.  
  
It was so unusual for him to be confrontational.   
  
"Look if you want to get home to linz that's fine. But I'm not going anywhere, ill still be here tomorrow," Greg said, putting his hands in his pockets. He turned, it was true, he's still be here tomorrow, and he didn't mind waiting.   
  
Catherine shook her head, "wait," she said quietly, grabbing his hand. It was now or never. She could go home, think of a lie, and come back tomorrow.   
  
But she didn't want to.  
  
Greg had been truthful with them; she wanted to be truthful with him.  
  
Or maybe she was just being selfish; getting of her mind.   
  
"I blame myself for what happened to you." She said honestly.  
  
Greg searched his mind for a moment. "The explosion?" he said in confusion.  
  
"Yes."  
  
"I don't blame you – but, what has that got to do with this?" He said, his voice echoing his confusion.   
  
"I'm glad." She said looking away; she didn't want him to look at her.   
  
"Glad?" He said in utter disbelief.   
  
"Every time something bad happens to someone – I'm glad its not me." She admitted, suddenly forming eye contact with him.   
  
Greg Laughed. "That's normal Cath!" he exclaimed, not really knowing if he believed his own words. But he understood what she meant; working in a lab, you here about a lot of bad things, and sometimes you do think 'I'm glad that wasn't me' – but he was surprised it had effect Cath so much.   
  
"No! It's not! Your ill, and I'm so happy it's not me! I'm happy I'm not sick! Its as bad as wanting you ill!" she cried.  
  
Greg felt himself cringe at the number of times she said, 'ill' and 'sick' – it made him feel dirty. He even hated the word 'disease' – he preferred 'condition' – but he knew he was being oversensitive.   
  
It was just a word.  
  
But a single word had changed his life before.   
  
Greg could see the desperation on her face. She wanted forgiveness. He didn't quite understand her reasons; but they were important to her.   
  
"People get sick. Labs blow up. I'm still alive." He said insistently, emphasizing 'sick' and 'alive'. "And I don't blame you." He continued. "For what you've done or what your feeling."   
  
"Thank you," she said, shaken by her own confession. She gave him a small hug, and proceeded to her car.  
  
Greg watched her leave.   
  
He felt indifferent. 


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Thanks again for the reviews – They really do make my day.   
  
[Tiny spoiler for: 'Let the seller beware' …. But you wont see it unless you're looking]  
  
I don't feel great [when do I ever?], so forgive any errors.   
  
+_+_+  
  
Nick sighed. He was in a bar; by himself. He'd been propositioned several times, but he just didn't feel like company. But he didn't feel like being alone.   
  
The bar was a compromise.   
  
Between the sips of room temperature beer and clattering glass, his mind slipped back to thinking about Greg.   
  
Why did he seem so angry? Why had he told Grissom first?   
  
Nick didn't have many friends – he guessed no one really did being a CSI – on night shift. You work at night – sleep in the day – it doesn't leave much time for socialising.   
  
But you keep going back - you do it everyday – for that feeling – that indescribable feeling.  
  
But Greg was a friend. Someone who didn't necessarily flinch at his jokes. However bad they were. Someone who he could talk to.   
  
He was a friend – friends talk to each other. Friends tell each other secrets.   
  
He hated to admit – but he was jealous that Greg had gone to Grissom. It was like Grissom now owned part of Greg.   
  
And it was only Greg's word that Grissom didn't know for long – for all he knew – he could have gone with him to the testing.   
  
'Pa-Parkinson's,' he felt his mind stutter. It was a big thing. Not like the fungus Grissom had infected him with. This wasn't funny either.   
  
Nick didn't know much about Parkinson's either – not beyond what you see in TV – and learn briefly in seminars.   
  
"Vodka – straight," he thoughtlessly said to the bar tender. He wanted his mind to shut up – he wanted to quieten his thoughts of Greg.   
  
Suppressing the synapses was a good option.   
  
That was another problem with being a CSI – whenever you ingest – you know exactly what it's doing.   
  
He'd never really had bad news like this before. Yes, people he'd known had died. But this was different. This wasn't a 'death' as such – more of a death sentence.   
  
It's like knowing something's going to happen, but not being able to stop it. It wasn't something Nick was used to coping with.   
  
Being a CSI you deal with the after effects – you build up a picture of the 'before.'  
  
But this was the 'before'. This was the crime scene – before a crime had been committed.   
  
He downed the vodka. He could feel the room around him merging – the lights, sounds and colours.  
  
He knew he was drunk – but he didn't care. He knew soon enough he would forget what he was drinking for.   
  
+_+_  
  
Short chapter – but I do update daily. Sometimes more. 


	9. Chapter 9

As always, thanks for the reviews – they keep me writing.  
  
_+_  
  
Sara laid on her sofa, staring at the ceiling. The smell of take out food filled the apartment – she'd ordered take out again – something she promised herself not to do.   
  
But every time something bad happened, she returned to bad habits.   
  
She remembered her and Greg's earlier conversation. It was small talk. She knew that. Every time there was a moment of silence; she filled it. It wasn't her usual way to react to a bad situation; but situations never usually got this bad.   
  
Her mind seemed to be replaying every conversation she'd ever had with Greg – every moment they'd shared together – every smile she received.   
  
It all seemed so empty now.   
  
So…pointless.   
  
She felt so……lost.   
  
A crime would be easier. Crimes were puzzles. Puzzles have solutions.   
  
Greg was ill – which was a problem – but she wasn't a doctor. CSI's solve crimes, doctors 'solve' conditions.   
  
For a brief moment, Sara wished she was a doctor, or had a more medical background. Then maybe she could help him.   
  
Why Greg. Why a lab tech. Why a lab tech from Vegas. Why her friend? So many questions. She knew she couldn't answer them. And she hated that.   
  
And she hated the way she was acting too; she didn't even mention it when she spoke to him. And who else was there for him to talk to? His family? Had Greg even talked to them? Who could Greg talk to about this – other than everyone at CSI?   
  
'However I'm feeling, he probably feels worse.' She thought.   
  
I need to be there for him; no matter what happens.   
  
She sat up slightly, sickened with thought.   
  
'God…he's not going to get better, is he? She questioned the room; she looked at the glass on the table and angrily smashed it against the wall.   
  
She felt so angry; and she didn't know where to place it.   
  
She laid back down on the sofa- and looked toward the ceiling again.   
  
"I know life isn't fair – can you quit reminding me?" she stated aloud, to the empty room. She could feel the tears forming. 


	10. Chapter 10

It's ok to update daily? Right? Or would you prefer longer chapters less often?   
  
Thanks again for the reviews - you guys really like this, dont you? Thanks for the encouragement.  
  
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"Night Griss," Warrick said, more to catch Grissom's attention than anything else.   
  
"Night," Grissom simply responded.   
  
"You err…need a ride?" Warrick said hesitantly. He really wanted someone to talk to – he would have preferred Cath – or even Sara – but Grissom was the only one left in the lab.   
  
"No." He said, tone similar to his last answer. He's stopped walking, and his expression was questioning Warrick's last question.  
  
"He'll get better, wont he?" Warrick said, looking away from Grissom. He didn't want him to see the fear.   
  
Grissom looked confused for a few seconds before responding, "Warrick….do you know what Parkinson's is?" Grissom was slightly concerned by Warrick, he didn't seem to respond to the news the same way as everyone else.   
  
"Yea! Sure I do. But Greg's strong he'll beat this," Warrick said, slightly annoyed that his intelligence was being put into question. He was hoping for more support from grissom.   
  
Grissom continued to look in question at Warrick. He wasn't sure if he really didn't know what Parkinson's was – or that he was in denial about what was happening.   
  
"Night," Warrick repeated in an aggressive tone, and walked off.   
  
Grissom just shook his head, dismissing the conversation.   
  
Warrick believed in a positive attitude.   
  
Odds – you could ride with the odds. People get better from Cancer – right? And that's meant to be the worse thing out there.   
  
Positive attitudes – that's what's needed. Mind over matter. Greg can beat this. Greg's strong. No matter how slim the chances were, if he believed in something, he would bet on it.  
  
He bet that Greg would get better. He could feel it.   
  
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Sorry, short chapter - longer ones will follow [will be updated tomorrow]. 


	11. Chapter 11

I just want to say thanks to: Brandywine421, iheartcsi, *&^%$#, heebiejeebie, icanreadncount, Elanah, annie, csifan1, wolf-sister, Silver Mirror, jamie, jd burns, Shuna B, Roses, ScifiSand, Lady Lenna, Sandersgirl, sparkycola1, Caspian Raider, The Shadow Wolf, SandersLover, Dare-Sonar, Elina, Sophia Prester, csi-chick1, jamie, DixieHellcat, jcsangel88, greggy love, The Mysterious M, A Bloom and Steph --- and anyone else who's reviewed. They're all greatly appreciated.   
  
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Greg sat on a hard moulded plastic chair in Starbucks, waiting. Nick had called him, and asked if they could meet up before work. Greg had reluctantly accepted.   
  
He was early, more out of choice than anticipation. He needed to take his tablets. They were no longer linked to the agonising 'should I –shouldn't I' decision.   
  
It wasn't just one tablet – he had to take both Sinemet and Eldepryl together. It was actually slightly disconcerting – he only took Eldepryl to reduce the side effects of the Sinemet.   
  
He swallowed them; but it felt as though they lingered in his throat.   
  
He didn't see Nick, until he sat opposite. He'd been in his own world again.   
  
Nick remained silent, he didn't even look at Greg, he just sat there, head down, face turned away.   
  
"You called?" Greg said suspiciously, breaking the silence.  
  
Nick looked up, dark patches hung beneath his eyes; he looked like he hadn't shaven, and his eyes lids were Fasciculating, probably due to lack of sleep.   
  
"Man, you look rough, night on the town?" Greg said, slightly sympathetically – the thought of Nick going out drinking to forget his problems – to forget him – worried him slightly.   
  
"Kinda. Don't remember much of it." He said dismissed. "We need to talk." He said hurriedly, but the words hung in the air.   
  
Nick wasn't one to talk through all his problems. And if he did, he preferred to be vague about them.   
  
"I'm not to sure about that." Greg said honestly. He didn't want to talk. He didn't have answers. He was as much as a victim as they were. Just because he had a condition didn't mean he knew everything there was to know about it.   
  
He feared questions.   
  
He didn't want to be questioned on things.   
  
Like life expectancy.   
  
"Look Greg, I understand! But man, you gotta talk to me!" Nick exclaimed, placing his elbows onto the table, and heavily leaning on them.   
  
Greg pulled away at this gesture.   
  
His didn't want people to get to close to him.   
  
They might see something; a tremor, that even he hadn't noticed.   
  
"Ok," he frowned.   
  
Nick took the opportunity.  
  
"Why didn't you tell me? At the beginning, when all of this started." He said sadly, he slightly feared the answer.   
  
"There was nothing really to tell. I started getting stiff shoulders and back – but leaning over a microscope all day – what do I expect?" he grinned, but Nick's serious expression told him to continue, "Then one day in the lab – my hands start shaking – and I almost freak out. I guess its stress you know? We were working a lot of cases." Greg shrugged.   
  
"We always are, you always are" Nick said supportively.  
  
"I thought my doc would just give me something – to help me relax – but instead – I get sent to a neuro." Greg said, voice stating to crack, having to admit all this was hard for him.   
  
"Why didn't you ask me then?" Nick said, as though it was the obvious thing to do.   
  
"What? To go too a neurologist with me?" Greg asked, perplexed.   
  
"Yea!" Nick responded positively.  
  
"Nick," Greg sighed, "I was feeling pretty low- are you telling me you would have gone – no jokes made?" Greg said, desperately trying to make sense of his own actions.   
  
Nick was about to answer, but stopped after seeing Greg's knowledgeable stair. He decided to re-phrase his answer.   
  
"I don't know," he admitted, "-but you could of asked me to go with you for the tests."  
  
"I wanted to – for the MRI – I just wanted to tell someone. " Greg said with frustration. Hindsight was a fickle thing.   
  
"But you didn't." Nick said, his voice slightly strained with annoyance. " … tell me why."  
  
"I didn't know what it was, it could have been nothing. And….if it was bad…I didn't want to worry anyone." Greg exclaimed, hating having to account for his actions.  
  
Sometimes you just do things; you don't need a motive.   
  
"Greg, I'm your friend, I'm always here for you."   
  
"I know." He said it without any realisation.   
  
After all, how can you predict another persons actions; when you cant even account for your own?   
  
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Don't worry; next part up tomorrow; and I definitely will be going into more details on how the CSI's are coping – not just as individuals – but as a group. 


	12. Chapter 12

And she watched her sleep. Beneath covers, flecked in stars, on a midnight blue background; and Cath hope she's dreaming.   
  
She closed the door behind her, watching the sliver of light across her daughters face decrease, until it dissipates entirely.   
  
And now, her face is only illuminated by the soft glow from the outside lights.  
  
Cath watched her; not out of fear for the present or past, but fear of the future.  
  
And not the fear that eventually her daughter would be a teenager, and one day she would not be able to protect her.  
  
She went through those fears before Lindsey even had a name  
  
Before she felt the warmth inside of her.   
  
She feared for a different reason. 'Genetic predisposition,' – that was what Grissom had purposely called it on a case.   
  
And that….description struck so close to home.   
  
As women in her family, had a tendency to die of Cancer.   
  
And she feared that maybe, she have dealt her daughter a card of something destructive.   
  
But it wasn't a loaded gun……just simple genetics.   
  
And unlike a suspect, if it came knocking at the door; she could not stop it.   
  
Greg had bought that fact home to her. And it sickened her; a friend was suffering, and she was pitying her daughter; a perfectly healthy child.   
  
And she didn't want to leave her child. And she didn't want to see Greg; not because of what he had wrong with him, but because he was a remind that, 'bad things happen to good people.'   
  
The thought of calling Grissom; telling him she wasn't going to be at work, crossed her mind.   
  
But only briefly.   
  
She walk over to her daughter, intending to leave a kiss on her forehead, but she hesitated.   
  
It felt like saying goodbye, and she didn't know why. She felt like in the few seconds of contemplating her daughters' future; she'd written it of.   
  
She sighed, and let her mind organise the mess it had created. Then she kissed her daughter, and left the room.   
  
No-ones life was over. Not Lindsey's, not Greg's.  
  
But it was a hard thought to believe in, especially when she knew that tonight there may be a murder, or suicide….or any other form of death.   
  
It was hard to escape it.   
  
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Sorry, short chapter – I want to move on from the characters thoughts – and Cath's was the last one to do. I think I struggle writing Cath's thoughts – I just can't seem to get inside her head.  
  
Revelations take time to reveal, and chapters take time to write, but eventually, all will be known. [……the more interesting chapters will follow….]  
  
[How does Sara and Greg on a shopping spree sound? – idea for a subsequent chapter.] 


	13. Chapter 13

There will be no pairings……sorry – but there will be plenty of Sara and Greg character interaction. Hope it's enough for you.   
  
Thanks for ALL the reviews. It's hard to believe people like this so much….  
  
Sorry I didn't update yesterday, I felt low…and I didn't want to inflict 'low-ness' on this story.   
  
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Nick, Greg and Sara were in the break room. They were talking – a good sign.   
  
Greg felt good to be talking again – and he felt good the topic wasn't him.   
  
Thought it wasn't easy.   
  
Every time something awkward was said; that related to Greg's condition, there was silence, and Greg had to re-initialise the conversation.   
  
Sara kept shooting him long glances. He knew she had questions – but was thankful she wasn't asking them. He just preyed the glances weren't accompanied by pitying thoughts.   
  
Nick's façade had softened, the coffee – both from the café – and the break room - had perked him up.   
  
"So, you're saying that you turned here down?" Sara said beaming. She was enjoying this torture.   
  
"Sara, Sara, Sara……she was drunk! So was I! I wasn't going to accept!" Nick exclaimed, straining his Texan accent. He truly hadn't taken anyone home the night before, but it always was a struggle convincing Sara of that.   
  
"What's her name?" Greg inquired grinning. It was fun to watch Sara completely ridicule Nick.   
  
"What, you think he got her name? That's a 'second date thing,'" Sara laughed. Although she felt happier on the outside, inside she felt a nagging ache, telling her that she shouldn't be happy. But she suppressed it.   
  
Before Nick had time to contest Sara's accusations on his sleeping habits, Warrick broke into the conversation.   
  
"You do know they have a cure," Warrick said seriously, looking Greg in the eyes.  
  
"What?" Greg responded, utterly confused by Warrick's statement.   
  
"Yeah, I went by the hospital, talked to a friend of mine. You can have what's called a 'Pall-I-dotomy'" – Warrick struggled to pronounce the word, "I got some leaflets on it," he said positively.   
  
He placed the leaflets in front of Greg, who was now turning pale. "This is brain surgery…" Greg whispered.   
  
He felt so shocked. He felt betrayed.  
  
Greg angrily swept the leaflets of the table, and stormed out, without even looking at Warrick; who was now clearly confused by Greg's reaction.   
  
"Man, what did you go and do that for!" Nick said in an exasperated tone. He walked out, obviously going to seek out Greg.   
  
Warrick was now completely confused: he was trying to be positive, trying to increase the odds. 'Greg should be grateful he has a chance like this,' he thought.  
  
Sara stood up, and gave Warrick a cold hard stare. "What do you think you're doing?" her calm tone contradicted her furious exterior.   
  
Grissom walked in the room, clearly confused, "I just saw Greg and Nick…would anyone care to explain…"  
  
"Warrick just decided to give Greg some leaflets on brain surgery." Sara said vindictively.   
  
"So?" Grissom questioned.   
  
Sara narrowed her eyes and regarded him, clearly shocked by his apparent uncaring response. "I don't know about you Grissom, but I would not want someone messing around with my head." She said coldly.  
  
Her words hit Grissom on so many levels.   
  
"It's just an operation!" Warrick yelled, his façade suddenly turning to one of anger. He thought his idea would have gone down better than it had.  
  
Sara frowned at Warrick. She was beginning to learn all over again how insensitive people could be.   
  
She wanted to frown at Grissom too, but she was learning to prioritise her anger.   
  
Grissom now realised that something had happened before he entered the room; he was not equipped to sort this.   
  
She bent down, and picked up the leaflets that Greg had earlier knocked down in rage.   
  
"Yeah, but did you even look at the risks? She questioned, slapping the leaflets against Warrick's chest. "Did you even think what kind of pressure you just put him under? Surgery's a big thing!" she yelled.   
  
Before she left, she gave Grissom a cold glance; a warning. A warning that he should support her; no, that he should support Greg.   
  
Warrick stared at grissom, who returned his stare. When neither spoke, Warrick decided to leave.   
  
All he was trying to do was help; he didn't understand why it upset everyone.   
  
Grissom stood, slightly bewildered by what had just happened. He was actually quite shocked how violently Sara had reacted to the thought of surgery.   
  
He was beginning to become thankful of his decision not to tell anyone about his surgery.   
  
But he was also worried…his team were acting so aggressive toward each other.   
  
This could lead to a hostile work environment…….if it hadn't already.  
  
=======================================  
  
"Greg, wait up!" Nick cried.   
  
Nick felt so…fragmented. He didn't know how to react. His friend was ill – and just because they'd been friends for a long time didn't mean that he knew how to react.   
  
And Greg was acting differently. But – what did he expect? Its not everyday you find out you have a degenerative disease. Nick kept questioning himself – how would he cope – and how could he help Greg cope?  
  
Greg stopped, and leaned into the glass wall.   
  
It took several minutes for Greg to finally look at Nick, fearing what he's see, and what he'd say.   
  
Nick didn't need to say anything; his eyes questioned Greg's actions.   
  
"It's hard that – that you guys see me as broken." Greg stuttered, trying not to sound to metaphorical or sentimental.   
  
"We don't." Nick said softly.   
  
"Then why do you want me to have surgery," Greg said, biting back the tears.   
  
"That was Warrick's idea. Greg – why are you taking this so hard?" Nick said, although his infuriation with the situation was increasing – he tried to maintain a calm voice.   
  
He knew from interrogations: shouting never got anyone anywhere.  
  
Greg began to think again. It was hard trying to explain –and there were some things he wasn't prepared to admit to.   
  
Secretly; he felt alone.   
  
He didn't feel he had a connection to anyone anymore.   
  
He used to feel so comfortable talking to his friends, now he felt he didn't know them.  
  
But he knew it wasn't their fault.   
  
"Because I have a progressive disease that will probably kill me – and the day after I tell you guys – Warrick's trying to schedule brain surgery," Greg said calmly.   
  
"It just shows how much he wants to help you," Nick reasoned.   
  
"Maybe I don't want help – maybe I just want support for what I'm going through." Greg said, searching desperately for ways to end the conversation.   
  
"We do support you!" Nick finally raised his voice, trying to convey the point to Greg – who seemed like he want willing to listen.   
  
"It just doesn't feel like it," Greg said dejectedly, before walking off.   
  
"Greg," Nick yelled after him. He continued to yell his name for some time, but to no avail.   
  
It was clear that Greg now wanted to be alone.   
  
And Nick knew he had cases to deal with.   
  
He felt like he'd poured salt in the wounds – before Greg was angry with someone else – now he was angry with him too. He just couldn't say the right things.   
  
Greg heard Nick's insistent yells, but kept walking. He didn't want to explain the real reason why he was so angry, so frustrated.   
  
The real reason was that he was afraid.   
  
Afraid of people's reactions.  
  
Afraid of the drugs.  
  
Afraid of the disease.   
  
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I found this chapter hard to write – I think it's because there's so much going on.   
  
FYI: A Pallidotomy is a type of brain surgery for Parkinson's.   
  
[yes, we will get to the shopping trip – since you seem to like the idea – it'll be here in a couple of chapters] 


	14. Chapter 14

An/ No more pairing requests now? Please? I gave you that other fic [The CD] for a gr/s fix. Go read it [if you haven't already]   
  
Last thing: Although I try to update daily, there are some days I won't be able to.   
  
[Also thanks for the reviews!!!!]   
  
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Grissom and Sara were at a crime scene; a 407; burglary. Sara was taking multiple crime scene photos while Grissom was dusting items for fingerprints.   
  
They hadn't really spoken to each other so far; there had been slight conference on the details of the crime, but that was all.   
  
The only reason Grissom had paired himself with Sara is because of her earlier hostility toward Warrick, he didn't want her to inflict her anger on any of his other team members.   
  
"Why didn't you support me?" Sara said suddenly.   
  
Grissom gritted his teeth. He didn't want an argument – especially at a crime scene. "This is hardly the time or place Sara"  
  
"No, now is the time and place." She said insolently.   
  
"I don't need to explain myself to you Sara." Grissom responded, slightly annoyed.   
  
She stood up, and placed her hands on her hips, as she regarded him. "Grissom, you never get emotional attached with your cases, right? Is it the same for your employees?" She said in cool sarcastic tones.   
  
She didn't give him chance to reply; she'd done all she could at the crime scene, and she said all she needed to.   
  
Grissom exhaled sharply. Recently, he felt as though he was loosing touch with his team. No. He wasn't losing touch – they were just acting so…differently.   
  
He finished dusting for prints, and checked the floor for fibres. He had decided to stay at the crime scene as long as possibly before returning to the Tahoe: Sara needed time to cool off; and he was more than willing to let her have that time.   
  
Finally, Grissom got back to the Tahoe, and placed the samples in the back.   
  
After the loud 'thud' of the door shutting, there was silence.   
  
Eventually, after some moments of consideration, Grissom decided to break it.   
  
"Sara," he started hesitantly, then continued in a more forceful tone, "I arrived half way through the conversation, how was I to know what had been said?" He said knowledgably.   
  
"Griss, you just don't get it. Warrick was suggesting brain surgery!" she yelled in frustration.   
  
There was a moment of silence; neither knew whether to speak next.   
  
Sara realised the words she had just spoken; Brain surgery, "God that sounds like science fiction," she said quietly.   
  
"But if it gives him the chance at a better life?" Grissom coaxed, trying to get her more comfortable with the idea.   
  
She sighed. "I checked the odds on this surgery, combine that with the risk of anaesthetic…"she said in a disappointed tone.   
  
"There are damn lies and statistics," grissom recited.   
  
"I guess……" she said, furrowing her brow. Then she turned to Grissom, "…I don't want to loose him," she said in tears.   
  
=======================================  
  
Everyone was waiting in the break room. Each of them had got a page from Grissom; the room was virtually silent, apart from the occasional grumbling, that 'it was end of shift' and 'they have lives to get back to.'  
  
But there was near no interaction between people. But that's probably to be expected; you spend all day around evidence, and are constantly told 'people lie.'   
  
Suddenly, Nick decided to break the silence.   
  
"Why you think Griss brought us here?" Nick questioned the room.   
  
"No idea." Warrick said, and his answer was amplified by concurring shrugs.   
  
Grissom appeared at the door, and looked between his colleagues, "Is Greg here?" he questioned.   
  
"I am now," Greg said, appearing behind Grissom. Greg looked sheepishly between people – he was glad they were focused on Grissom – his hand shad only just stopped shaking.   
  
"Good," he responded, and stepped into the room.   
  
"Why are we here Griss?" Warrick questioned, he thought it either had something to do with his earlier behaviour; or Greg. Why else would he have brought the lab tech here?  
  
"Mandatory overtime." He replied.   
  
"Mandatory?" Catherine yelled, shocked at the idea of having to go out again after the shift she had just endured.   
  
Grissom ignored her, and turned to Sara.   
  
"Sara, are you ok to drive?" Grissom asked.   
  
"Yeah…I guess…hold on… Where we going? Crime scene?" She said, going between confusion and anticipation.   
  
"Wait and see," Grissom said in all seriousness.   
  
The team exchanged worried glances – last time everyone was taken out in the field – with Greg – it was heavy casualties.   
  
The team divided themselves into Grissom and Sara's Tahoe's, they had no idea where he was taking them.   
  
And being CSI's curiosity compelled them to follow.   
  
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Where are they going? Wait and see.   
  
[Warning: less-angsty chapters coming up] 


	15. Chapter 15

AN/ Hey there. Thanks for the reviews.   
  
I really mean that. Sorry I haven't been so quick with updates.   
  
[Small spoiler for: Burden of proof, in the Catherine and Grissom's conversation.]   
  
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Sara felt numb. A case was the last thing she wanted entering her mind; she didn't want to 'empathise' with anyone tonight, she wanted to battle her own demons.   
  
But she lived for her work. She knew this. She would take any case. She would try to adopt the synonymous attitude of Grissom; that nothing is special.   
  
She knew she would try and fail.   
  
She knew she'd complain now, but as soon as she entered a crime scene, the complaints dissipated; faded into the background. The case became paramount; a problem, a problem she could solve.   
  
But unlike any other day; Greg was constantly in her mind. She'd seen his hands shake before; but she presumed that – like her – he had caffeine-fuelled nervous shakes.   
  
If only she's paid more attention. Asked him about them.   
  
Sara wondered if you had to be a case to get her full attention.   
  
Her gaze flicked to Warrick, she resented Grissom for placing him in her car.   
  
Her mind reeled through murders that involved cars, and wondered if she could use any of them as a template for her own murder.   
  
She knew she was just mad; and it would eventually disperse.   
  
She watched the Tahoe in front take another turn. She still had no-idea where they were going.   
  
And she guessed that was a little out of choice – she had memorised most of the streets from road maps - but there was something about being 'taken' somewhere. The same feeling when your parents take you out, you're sitting in the backseat, and they promise to take you somewhere. But they don't tell you there.   
  
She was severely beginning to doubt it was a case. But she knew better than to make assumptions; believe in the evidence.   
  
Assumptions lead to disappointments.   
  
She assumed that Greg was ok. She assumed wrong.   
  
///---///  
  
That's when she saw it. And she knew where they were going. She wondered if it was wrong to assume that Grissom was limited when it came to creative solutions.  
  
-----------------  
  
The same realisation struck one of the passengers in the leading Tahoe. Catherine knew where they were going. She turned to Grissom; should she expect this kind of behaviour from him?  
  
"This is your solution?" She questioned with concern.   
  
"Yes." He said simply   
  
"A roller coaster?" She said in disbelief.   
  
"Uh-huh" he muttered  
  
"Well, at least it wasn't a plant." She said smiling.   
  
He turned to her and raised an eyebrow.   
  
She smiled. She reasoned that it was a solution of sorts.   
  
---------------------------------------  
  
The group got together, and stared up to the peaks of the roller coaster.   
  
"Roller coaster, huh?" Warrick rhetorically questioned, he knew what Grissom was doing. He was grateful for this distraction to the aversion people were showing him.   
  
"We're going on….that?" Nick stressed, this was possibly the last place he thought they would be going  
  
"Yes," Grissom answered simply, he didn't want to give a lecture; he didn't want to dictate how it would make them feel.   
  
He didn't want to tell them that the euphoria that they would feel was to do with science. The motion basically disturbs liquid in the ear related to balance – and causes a giddy thrill – but he wasn't going to tell them that.   
  
This was his way of coping with the world.   
  
And even if it wouldn't help them, at least he was bringing his team together in a social setting.   
  
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Everyone walked together towards the roller coaster, with the exception of Greg and Sara.  
  
Sara had noticed he was walking slowly.   
  
"Are you ok to go this Greg?" Sara said with concern.   
  
"I'm not dying Sara," he said smiling.   
  
"...but, you kinda are Greg" She said with confusion, wondering if Greg knew his probably fate.  
  
He grinned ,"- but not today, not tomorrow, not the day after." He said with a shrug.   
  
"Sara, anyone could die, at any time. The people we see here today, could and up in the morgue tomorrow. It doesn't mean we have to think about it all the time."   
  
  
  
"Aren't you afraid?" She said softly, looking to the ground.   
  
"Yeah, I haven't been on a roller coaster in a while..." Greg began, his tone upbeat.   
  
"...That's not what I mean..."  
  
"...I know what you meant Sara...." he said, giving her a knowledgeable stare and a grin.  
  
She looked at him. She held him in great regard; he was so brave. She slowly let a smile form on her lips.   
  
Greg was strange…. but the good strange. He was so…profound…. and so crazy…she thought to herself.   
  
"We better catch up with them." Sara said enthusiastically.   
  
"Yeah, we better." Greg said replied.   
  
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Not happy with this chapter……it doesn't feel right. Well, please review. 


	16. Chapter 16

I don't know why; but at the moment I just feel like I'm going to mess all my stories up. I'm glad the last chapter was ok – thanks for the support.   
  
[and thanks for the reviews, all of them, I know this story hits close to home for some people.]  
  
Short chapter: looking into the coping methods of the team.   
  
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Finally, everyone was on the roller coaster, Grissom and Sara were in the first two carriages, Warrick and Nick in the two behind, and Cath and Greg in the subsequent one to the.   
  
The roller coaster didn't provide inspiration too them; it wasn't a pivotal point in their lives. It just gave them time to think things over; outside the lab, out side their home, outside there lives…..  
  
Grissom let the world disappear – it was a time to be away, forget who he was, and what he did. He became just another person…. he craved anonymity…. and this was one of the places in Vegas he could receive it.   
  
Sara realised that life was something you couldn't predict. Greg was right, anything could happen; predicting the worse would not change the outcome; just make the present more uncomfortable.   
  
Nick could feel the tears; he hated them. They always came when he was afraid, they came every time he was threatened with a gun. He exhaled. He raised his arms, he opened his mouth to yell the usual screams heard on a roller coaster…. and he let go….  
  
Warrick was shocked to see the different ways people were reacting, Grissom and Sara were so quiet in front, yet nick looked like he was having the time of his life…People do react differently to different situations…and the same situation…because we all see it differently. Surgery for one man can be an answer, for another it can be a question.   
  
Catherine realised that she shouldn't make the situation about her. Greg was the one who was ill; not her, not her daughter. And however much she feared for her families future, she should conceal it. Greg was the here and now.   
  
  
  
Greg knew he had to be strong, for everyone's sake. As well as his own.   
  
He was grateful to be included, sometimes he felt so separate from the CSI's, after all, he was just a lowly lab tech. Occasionally included on a case, but not actually part of the case.   
  
But it was somewhere between what felt like a freefall drop, and the end of the ride; Greg realised he wasn't going to get any better.   
  
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Sara heard the phone ring; she willed it not to be work. Well; unless it involved another roller coaster ride. She felt more…relaxed after it. But she wasn't sure if it was the roller coaster of Greg that made her feel that. His words were so reassuring, she was sure she was the one meant to be reassuring him.   
  
"Sidle."  
  
"Sara…"  
  
"Is that you Greg?"  
  
"Yeah, uh, I was wondering if you wanted to go out shopping with me…."  
  
"Shopping?"  
  
"Yeah, you know, shops, bags, buying…."  
  
"I know what shopping is Greg, I was just wondering why you asked me?"  
  
"If you're busy, its ok…."  
  
"….-No, I have some spare time tomorrow, it'll be fun"  
  
"Ok Sara, it's a date…."  
  
"Greg!"  
  
"Kidding! Its just two friends going out shopping, I did ask Nick, but he had stuff to do."  
  
"So I'm your second option."  
  
"My favourite second option."  
  
"…………….."  
  
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Yes; shopping trip up next chapter.   
  
I've been a member of here (ff) for one month [one day] now…..wow, 10 stories, I never thought I'd get the first one done. 


	17. Chapter 17

Ok, here's the chapter I've been promising for a while. I hope I didn't build anyone's expectations up to much.   
  
And just so you know, I do review [it might not seem that way…] but I never sign reviews or leave the same name twice. Why? Because I'm strange.   
  
Don't worry – the chapter isn't all angst….  
  
  
  
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She smiled when she saw him. Sara always found it difficult seeing people outside the lab, they all seemed out of context.   
  
It was difficult believing people had lives outside of work, she knew her colleagues were people, but seeing them be people was another matter.   
  
He reciprocated her smile with a grin as he saw her. It was nice to see someone from the lab outside of work.   
  
They had decided to meet in the mall, and Sara was still slightly suspicious that this was a pretence for something else.  
  
But she didn't mind. She hadn't been out in weeks…or at least she told herself that. She knew it could quite easily be months. Social interaction wasn't a priority.   
  
"Hey Sara," he said, his tone was relaxed.   
  
"Hey," she said dreamily. Her mind was elsewhere. She was thinking of the last time she'd seen someone from the lab in real life…she couldn't remember.   
  
"So what we shopping for?" she questioned.   
  
"Nothing interesting, mainly kitchenware." He answered nonchalantly  
  
"Kitchenware?" She exclaimed in confusion. It wasn't though she was expecting anything…but kitchenware?  
  
"Yeah." He paused for a moment, before adding, "Were you expecting underwear or something?" he smiled slightly, and for a moment, he wondered why she said yes to the shopping trip.   
  
"No, I just…why do you need me?"   
  
'She's already looking for an excuse to leave," he thought.   
  
He started walking, and Sara walked by his side.   
  
He thought of a way to phrase his intentions. It was always difficult with Sara, unless you gave her a complete answer, she carried on questioning.   
  
This difficulty made her a perfect scientist.   
  
"I could go out today, buy what I need, and go home. Probably forget my day off even existed. Or, I could actually make it enjoyable." He said seriously. He hoped she understood what he meant.   
  
"Hmm," Sara said warmly in agreement.   
  
She knew he was right. On her days of she had occasionally attempted to phone someone, and do something fun, but there was always doubt in her mind.   
  
Doubt that her colleagues would actually want to see her outside work.   
  
And her days off turned into research for cases.   
  
It was so hard to socialize…the few friends she had outside work had become more distant; but she was determined that was there fault, not hers.   
  
What did they expect? Ask a CSI what she did at work today, and be prepared. It wont be pretty.  
  
They asked the questions.   
  
Sara suddenly noticed Greg was shaking.   
  
"You ok Greg?" she said with concern, lightly touching his shoulder. Panic stricken thoughts crossed her mind.   
  
"I'm fine," he said awkwardly, uncomfortable that she was touching him while he was like this.   
  
Uncomfortable that she could see him like this.   
  
He hated that anyone could see him like this.   
  
Sara frantically looked round for a seat. She felt helpless. It wasn't like she could call 911.   
  
She spotted a bench between the flow of people.   
  
"Greg, let's go sit down for a bit?" her voice waved, she knew to be strong, but she could feel her eyes watering.   
  
He sighed, "Just give me a minute Sara," he shakily opened a bottle of pills, and swallowed one.   
  
"It'll stop." He didn't want to be a burden. He'd shaken like this before. It did eventually stop; the full body shaking didn't last long.   
  
People had begun to slow down as the walked by the pair.   
  
That stopped Sara's tears.   
  
She stared at them, to see the mixture looks, ranging from pity to disgust.   
  
"If you've got a problem," she yelled, "just come out and say it!" her voice increasing with anger. She couldn't believe no one was offering help.  
  
Well, she could, from being a CSI. But it was one thing to know it because of your job, and then to actually experience it in real life.   
  
"Sara," his voice was calming. She was angry that it didn't bother him. She let her attention to the on lookers fade, and focused her attention on him.   
  
Despite his earlier statement, she led him to a bench, and seated him. His shakes were less now. She was thankful   
  
"You…didn't need to do that," he said, slightly annoyed.   
  
She sighed, the tears burnt her eyes.   
  
"I'm ok." he said with an insistent tone, she gave him a small smile.   
  
His shakes were almost gone now. She felt imprudent, getting so worked up.   
  
"Sara, if it's to difficult to be around me…"he began sadly, before she interrupted him.   
  
"…No Greg, don't ever say that!" she stressed each and every word. She meant it. .   
  
Then there was silence. Neither knowing what to do or say next.   
  
Sara sighed, weighing up her options. She glanced at him. His shakes had stopped, he looked ok now.   
  
"You good to go now?" she suggested gingerly – not wanting to hurt his feelings.   
  
"Yeah, I'm good" he said, tone confident.  
  
"Good, because behind this science-girl exterior is a girl who likes to shop!" she joked. Shopping wasn't really a priority to her, but she needed to say something, she needed to show him that she was ok with him.   
  
A small smile appeared on her face at her words, and he tilted his head sideways and looked at her,  
  
"Can we go to Victoria's secret?" he quipped.   
  
She mocked scowled at him, and lightly hit his arm.   
  
Greg gave an innocent expression, which she couldn't help but smile at, "we'll see."   
  
---///---   
  
She watched Greg trawl though another set of plastic tableware. She willed herself to say something; but she felt like a bit of a hypocrite. She hardly had any tableware, let alone anything special.  
  
'Long live take out.' She thought to herself.   
  
But that was her, and this was him.   
  
"Greg, I thought you were getting a decent table ware," she said, trying not to sound too serious.   
  
"I am," he said bluntly, shrugging.   
  
"It's all plastic," She said, puzzled about his lack of enthusiasm.   
  
"I know," he uttered, sometimes Sara didn't know when to stop pushing.   
  
She gave him a questioning look, which induced a sigh from him.   
  
"Sara, the other night, I was holding a glass, and I just didn't feel it in my hand anymore, and I started shaking, I don't know if it was tiredness or.... well, I dropped it. I don't want any chances. So I'm going plastic." He said the last sentence with a smile.   
  
She looked at him, she was concerned, it was weird that he could make a joke at a time like this. Then she remembered his earlier words from before they went on the roller coaster. She smiled.   
  
"....Suppose its better than going PVC or latex," she considered aloud, faking a contemplative stare.   
  
"You're a bad girl Sidle," he teased.   
  
She grinned, showing her teeth, her earlier thoughts of anguish were now absent, pushed into the pile of forgotten caseloads…  
  
……….Which never remained forgotten.   
  
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Hmm, This could have been a really fluffy long chapter. Why wasn't it? Because when it comes to neurological conditions; they don't leave you alone when you want them to.   
  
Please review! 


	18. Chapter 18

Hmm…I suppose the humour in the last chapter could be construed as 'shippy, but that's just my kind of wit.   
  
I want to thank everyone for the kind reviews they keep giving me. TY!  
  
Short chapter, but I think we need another insight into Greg's mind  
  
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Greg smiled as he placed the last mug in the cupboard, and heard the dull thud of plastic as one mug collided with another.   
  
Plastic did have its advantages.   
  
He felt satisfied.   
  
He wasn't going to let this beat him. He could adapt. Adaptation wasn't defeat; it was just changing the plan of attack, equalling the odds.   
  
But it wasn't the only reason he smiled. He smiled because Sara didn't shy away from him. She treated him like before. She didn't see him as an obstacle.   
  
He assumed she would react badly, maybe freak out and leave him there. He was happy she stood up for him at the mall; a very Sidle thing to do.   
  
He really liked her. He wasn't sure if it was much more than that; but it didn't matter now. He felt bad enough inflicting this on her as a friend.  
  
Anything more would be cruel.   
  
In a way, he was glad he had kept the number of people with knowledge of his condition to a minimum. Yes, he knew he couldn't hide it forever, but he needed time to adapt to.   
  
He gritted his teeth at the thought of telling his family; he didn't want to hurt them. And anyway, he didn't contact them often, so what use was burdening them with something they wouldn't realise anyway?  
  
He would inform them, in his own time. When he was ready and comfortable with his situation. Yes, they had a right to know, but he a right to decide on the time frame.   
  
He sighed. He hated being alone – all his thoughts gathered up, and he felt he couldn't silence them. Too many 'what, ifs.'  
  
What if the diagnosis was wrong?   
  
What if he had got checked out sooner?   
  
What if the medication didn't work?  
  
What happened if the symptoms decide to progress more rapidly?  
  
He remembered when the problems first started, about his thoughts between the tests; he went from believing he was going to die, to believing it was nothing.   
  
He wanted to reach back, prepare himself for this. Prepare himself for the depression, other peoples reactions, his own reaction.   
  
But there was no going back. They're never is. But maybe that was a good thing. Being able to adapt to a situation showed strength and control.   
  
He caught his reflection in the kitchen window, and looked at himself.   
  
Really looked. His face, his hair, his expression.   
  
'This is the face of a guy who has Parkinson's' he thought. His solemn expression changed into a smile.   
  
'This is the face of a cute guy who has Parkinson's.' He grinned. He was grateful that at heart, he had humour. Humour and friends would get him through this. Well…humour, friends, and a couple of tablets a day.   
  
But then his mind's focus shifted back to work. The lab. His job.   
  
He feared it.   
  
But not because of the people. He was beginning to realise; like him, they would need time, more time than he previously thought. And they were good people, the faced hardship everyday – and they still returned. They'd cope.   
  
And he knew he had one person on his side.   
  
Maybe two; but with Grissom, who can tell?  
  
His fear, instead, was focused on the tasks he had to perform at work.   
  
Dropping a mug full of glass full of liquid is nothing in comparison to dropping a test tube of evidence. With one tremor, you could let a guilt man walk free.   
  
But people have 'accidents' all the time, right?   
  
Not even a lab tech minus a neurological condition was foolproof.   
  
But he knew he was a liability.   
  
But then again; who at the lab wasn't?   
  
Sara stays awake for days on end, and rape cases get to her.  
  
Cath's headstrong, and child abuse cases affect her badly.   
  
Nick has a history with prostitutes.   
  
Warrick was a gambler.   
  
Grissom…well, even cases get to him, and he bends departmental procedures.   
  
They're all human. Well, he assumed Grissom was human. It wouldn't surprise him if he had bug DNA in him.   
  
  
  
Just because his condition was slightly more debilitating didn't make a bigger problem, just more obvious.   
  
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A/N: OT – Don't watch, "The league of extraordinary gentlemen" – it's a very, very bad film coming to a cinema near you. [But that's in my opinion; which I suppose doesn't count for much] 


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: Keep getting proxy errors - so some of my chapters aren't actually appearing when I upload them.  
  
Another short chapter, but the next one will be longer.  
  
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Sara froze for a moment when she picked up the glass of water. She wondered what Greg must have felt like; dropping something, knowing that it wasn't due to ineptness.  
  
She wasn't one of these people who would go round 'being thankful' for everything she had.  
  
As the saying goes, 'you don't know what you've got until it's gone.' So she couldn't really feel for him - her dopamine levels were normal.  
  
A chemical. That's all it took.  
  
She hated to admit it, but her world broke a little when she saw him. The trembling.  
  
But it wasn't the movements, it was his expression.  
  
He seemed so helpless, so lost. Something was happening to him and she couldn't stop it. He couldn't stop it.  
  
It was like watching a breaking news story; where something terrible is happening in another part of the world. Knowing someone you loved was in the fire, or on the plane.  
  
And not being able to do anything.  
  
But that kind of situation wasn't even comparable.  
  
This wasn't instantaneous. And she wasn't separated by location.  
  
He was right there. In front of her. Shaking.  
  
And all she could do was get angry, shout at people to stop staring. She couldn't help him. She couldn't tell him everything was going to be ok.  
  
She mentally shook herself. She knew thinking this way served no purpose. She had to think of the good things. Concentrate on the bad things in life, and you'll go crazy.  
  
The warm thought passed through her mind. She actually spent the day out of her house, with someone she knew.  
  
Someone else had initiated contact with her. It had happened once before with hank; but hank.he had other intentions. She shook his name from her mind; today wasn't a day to think about the mistakes she'd made.  
  
She smiled as she remembered the light banter her and Greg had shared. He was so strong.  
  
She hated to admit, but she did have some assumptions about what he would be like.  
  
She thought he would be different.  
  
She thought he would be.like a reflection. The same person, but different, and only different if you knew the person.  
  
But he wasn't. He was the same Greg. The same cryptic Greg, who shifted between being a comedian, to being an incredibly profound guy.  
  
She was grateful that he'd asked her. He could have asked anyone.and she didn't quite believe the story about Nick.  
  
She had felt needed.and now, she felt alone.  
  
And that was the problem. She enjoyed having company, and after having it, she craved it, but she couldn't initialise it.  
  
She couldn't just phone someone up, out of the blue when she felt like it. And even when she did, she only did it because she needed someone to listen. She didn't do it because she wanted company.  
  
Her mind paused for a moment; she guessed she was only seeing Greg in this new light because he was ill.  
  
She sighed, she hated that it took a tragedy like this for her to open her eyes, and see what was really there.  
  
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The last two chapters may seem 'shippy [so I apologise to the non-shippers out there] - but its just two characters thinking things over. 


	20. Chapter 20

Sara was sitting in the break room, it had been a rough night, and she was starting to feel the strain.   
  
Unusually, she'd felt detached from her cases, her mind was elsewhere.   
  
It felt like nothing mattered, nothing was important; she could walk out of there tonight, get hit by a car, and die.  
  
Then nothing she had done in her life would matter. She'd just be gone…  
  
"You ok Sara?" Grissom said, she hadn't even realised that he'd entered the room. She didn't even care.   
  
If he thought a roller coaster ride was going to fix everything; he was wrong.   
  
"Sure." She replied inattentively. Grissom was always so detached; he only realised the ramifications of an emotional situation if someone pointed them out, and used metaphorical terms involving science.   
  
"Want some?" He said, pointing to the coffee maker, but again, Sara was lost in thought. His stare rested on her.  
  
It wasn't until she realised that he was staring at her, that she responded.  
  
"Huh?" She said openly – she didn't want to admit that she didn't know if he'd asked a question.   
  
"Case?" he simply questioned.   
  
She sighed, "No" she offered half-heartedly. She really didn't want to talk. Grissom proclaimed to understand the human psyche – but he really sucked when it came to words of comfort.   
  
You can't comfort a person if you can't sympathise….empathise with them.   
  
You cant comfort a person if you don't feel anything.   
  
"Greg." He muttered, Sara was unsure if this was a declarative or interrogative statement.   
  
"Kinda. Things were fine…" She said, staring into open space, letting her voice drift of, remembering.   
  
"…But now…?" Grissom prompted. He hated seeing her this way. She seemed so tortured; it probably wasn't because she was taking it the hardest, but she found it difficult to separate her own emotions from other peoples problems.   
  
"Griss, a guy I see everyday has something wrong with him, something he's had wrong for a long time, I didn't even notice it. Some CSI I am." She said, her voice wavering in self doubt.   
  
"Exactly." He responded with a light smile.   
  
"What?" She exclaimed, again confused by his answers.   
  
"You are a CSI." He insisted. "You're out in the field most of the time – you're barely in the lab – and when you are – you're there for evidence." He stated clearly.   
  
"You think that should comfort me?" she said, with slight disgust.   
  
"I'm saying that you do a job which requires your full attention." Grissom said, voice escalating with irritation.   
  
"Hmm, thanks Griss," she said, sarcasm brimming in her voice.   
  
She gave him a cold stare before continuing, "I'd really love what you'd come up with if it was a CSI and not a lab tech – I mean, I spend more time with you guys in the field than I do in my own bed – if it had been one of you – your analogy would have been screwed." She yelled with anger.   
  
"Yeah," he responded seriously, his voice reflecting some of the anger that Sara had just displayed. He was trying to help her – but it never seemed enough.   
  
Sara saw his grim expression, and she had a sudden flash of doubt. "No one else is ill, right?" She questioned, seeking reassurance.   
  
He smiled lightly, and touched her arm. "No Sara, no-one is ill."   
  
She smiled lightly, and pattered his hand, got up, and left.   
  
Even though if felt like he said the wrong things at the time, sometimes the conversations she shared with him were reassuring…kind of.   
  
Grissom watched her leave. He couldn't tell her. He saw her face – she already was going out of her mind over Greg.   
  
But he didn't lie…   
  
'…I'm not ill, I'm just losing my hearing…'  
  
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If you read this far, Please review. 


	21. Chapter 21

Hmm…I hate the kind of 'ill' where you can't take tablets to get better. It sucks.   
  
I think this story's got about another 7 chapters in it…. maybe more, maybe less, depending on how much I post at a time.   
  
As always, your reviews are greatly appreciated – other than keeping me writing – they keep me happy.   
  
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"Hey Greg," Warrick announced as he moved into the lab; Greg, as usual, had his back to the door.   
  
Recently, Greg hadn't said much to Warrick beyond information regarding cases. The temperature always seemed to drop if they both occupied the same room. Most of the team had tried to get some sort of amicable communication between them – most recently Sara – but it had failed.   
  
It was more on Greg's part than Warrick's – although Warrick had fallen into the habit of saying the wrong things at the wrong time.   
  
Warrick had been trying the approach Grissom suggested – 'give him time' – but that hadn't worked. In fact – the more space Warrick gave Greg – the more silent and cold Greg was toward him.   
  
He didn't realise that Greg thought he was ignoring him.   
  
Finally, Warrick had decided to adopt Sara's approach – act like nothing had happened – It was her final suggestion after weeks of trying.   
  
"Hey," Greg said quietly in response, "– got those results," he said, his tone was uninterested, he simply passed them to Warrick and turned back to the paperwork he was filling in.   
  
"That's it?" Warrick said, expectation in his voice.   
  
"Sure. Why, did I miss something?" Greg said coolly, and sarcastically. At the moment – he didn't know were he stood with Warrick – one minute he was being all happy – next minute he was ignoring him.   
  
"Hmm, its never this easy to get results." Warrick said with a smile, hoping to provoke a positive response from Greg.   
  
"I don't have time for games Warrick," he said cruelly. Greg still believed that Warrick was playing mind games – that he was still sore about suggesting the operation.   
  
Greg found it strange – he'd actually forgiven Warrick weeks ago – but every time he wanted to forgive him – he couldn't. He couldn't say the words. He was still trying to come to terms with what he had.  
  
But every time Greg got into a conversation with Warrick – he seemed to get angry for no apparent reason.   
  
He knew what he was doing. He was blaming him. He felt he needed someone to blame – and Warrick was an easy target – because he believed he'd done something wrong.   
  
Warrick scowled – "Stop doing this to me man!" he yelled, frustrated. He knew that if Greg didn't have something wrong with him – he's probably have got a bit more physical.   
  
"What?" Greg said, annoyed that Warrick hadn't taken the hint and left.   
  
"Shutting me out. I just made a suggestion – and that was weeks ago." Warrick said, trying to rationalise the situation. He couldn't see why Greg would still be mad with him.   
  
"I guess that's all it is to you." Greg said sadly, "A suggestion. This is my life, and this" He said, holding up his hand, "is what I am, I gotta except that." He continued, slightly bitter/   
  
"I just wanted you better Greg, I just, don't know what to say to you, how to act around you." Warrick said in frustration – he was struggling to convey the way he felt – he just wanted things to be the way they were. This was too hard to do.  
  
He hated fighting with a sick person.   
  
"/Act/?" Greg spat out with distain, "/Act/ like you always have Warrick. You don't have to care about me," he yelled.  
  
"I'm just a colleague." He continued quietly – in a near whisper.   
  
"Don't make me say this, " Warrick started, wondering weather it was worth saying anything or not. He sighed heavily, before continuing; "I do care about you Greg – that's why I don't know what to say – I try, and I just seem to make things worse!" he exclaimed/   
  
"I don't want you to act like anything Warrick –just be who you are." He said, probably more bitterly than he intended – because he didn't get the expected result.   
  
"Fine – be like that." Warrick said, shaking his head and leaving. He'd tried.   
  
Greg sighed, he was alone again. He didn't want Warrick to leave; he didn't want to turn him away.   
  
He cursed silently.   
  
Why did it have to be so hard to tell a person you forgive them?  
  
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As always, please review. 


	22. Chapter 22

I have a migraine. A really bad one. Yet, I type [ who cares if I can barely see what im typing?]. I'm strange like that.   
  
Your reviews are wonderful. They really are, I love knowing what you think of the story.   
  
I'm going to try to get it all done by Sunday; hopefully I will.   
  
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Greg was tempted to turn his music up when he heard footsteps in the lab, but he decided it'd probably be petty. Over the last week, everyone had either been ignoring him, or were too wrapped up in there own stuff to be bothered about him.   
  
Except Grissom. They'd had a fore filling conversation, which mainly revolved around metaphors; but Greg assumed that he was refereeing to disabilities in the workplace. Well; he hoped that's what it was. Greg understood most deep conversation, but with Grissom, terms got slightly…abstract, and a conversation could leave your mind spinning for a while.   
  
…And Sara. It seemed to depend what her caseload was; and how much caffeine had been drank. She went between being depressed; and she often got tearful when he was near. He felt sad that he made her feel that way. But on other days she was happy and upbeat – like before. But at least Greg had some knowledge of what was going on in her mind; she'd actually spoken to him.   
  
Nick on the other hand, he seemed very distant. But Greg knew that wasn't just him – Sara also mention he seemed pre-occupied. She mentioned he had a couple of rough cases, but she seemed uneasy talking about it. Greg had dropped the subject.   
  
Greg was still not speaking to Warrick, but he knew things would eventually work out for the best; they always did. He knew they'd start talking again, it probably just would take a while.   
  
Cath; another distant one. She always seemed, well, pre-occupied, but unlike Nick, she only seemed distant when she was around him. Greg wondered if she still blamed herself; he told her not too. But over time he had realised, no matter what you say, you cant dictate others feelings.   
  
"I heard about you and Warrick, " she said softly, Greg span round on his chair to acknowledge her presence. He rarely left that room if he could.   
  
It felt safe; it hadn't felt that way for a while – the explosion left his nerves unsettled, and his feelings about the lab mixed.  
  
But it felt safe now; he could make anyone leave; unlike the break room. And here, he always had the pretence of 'being too busy to talk.'   
  
Greg sighed, and decided he better answer her question, he was appreciatory that he didn't receive many insistent "are you ok's" – and he wasn't about to provoke one.   
  
"That was over a week ago. I'm glad you responded so promptly," he snapped sarcastically. He couldn't help it – he's felt so down recently. He hated the way people's attitude toward him shifted – he needed stability – and if shouting at them would eventually produce an uncaring, but constant, response; so be it.   
  
Caths felt the muscles in her jaw tighten. She didn't want to be another 'Warrick' – she didn't want to shout at Greg. "Greg, you gotta let this go." She said caringly.   
  
"Why?" He he threw back – he was tired of being told how to react.   
  
"Just because you're sick doesn't mean you cant avoid the issue." She said, raising her voice slightly, and placing her hands on her hips, "you got to deal with this!"   
  
"Your avoiding the issue. You all do. You all avoid me;…"  
  
"…that's not fair Greg!" Cath interrupted.   
  
"Not fair?" Greg exclaimed, "Not fair is when you realise you've got to stop typing because your hands are shaking so bad you cant hit the keys; or when people stare at you because you cant keep still…" His voice was full of anger, but his voice trailed off.  
  
They both knew where his statement was going, and it created a stunned silence from the pair. The last time they shared this amount of silence together was in the hospital; when Cath had told Greg that the explosion was her fault.   
  
"Not fair is having what I've got." He finished sadly.   
  
There was another short silence before he continued.   
  
"Warrick will survive being ignored, I however wont survive thi…"  
  
"Stop it Greg." Cath yelled, not wanting to hear him complete the sentence.   
  
"Then tell me Cath, why do you avoid me? You seem to palm all your case loads of on other lab techs when you can, and don't try to tell me its because you're trying to limit my case load." He said, with brutal honesty.   
  
"Because Greg, you're not the only one who has problems." Cath forced; she really didn't want to tell him. It felt to selfish to.   
  
"Problems?" Greg said, curiosity in his tone. For a moment he was worried; did Cath have something wrong with her? He suppressed the urge of getting up and moving closer to her.   
  
Give her time. Let her speak.   
  
She sighed. She knew if she left the conversation now, Greg would most likely not talk to her for a while at least. "The women in my family have a history of Cancer, k? You just, you…" She stumbled over her words.   
  
"I'm like the grim spectre of death." He said, completing her sentence; a little less eloquently than how she would have phrased it.   
  
"Nice to know when people look at me, they see the shortcomings in themselves." Greg said grimly.   
  
"I didn't mean it like that Greg; but you asked a question, and I gave you an honest answer." Cath said, trying to defend herself, it was hard trying to do that, while simultaneously trying not to offend Greg.   
  
Greg stood up; and walked to Cath.  
  
She slightly winced as he came closer; and scalded herself for doing so.   
  
Luckily; Greg didn't notice.   
  
"Cath…this is hard for me. You know what I live for at the moment? The moment I wake up. That's the only time I don't 'feel' or remember I have anything wrong with me. I don't have a guide telling me how to act; I don't know the right things to say to people…." She cut him off.   
  
"…and people don't know the right things to say to you Greg. I know, this is bad for you, but it is bad for other people. You don't know what to say, and neither does Warrick." Cath wondered if she was destined to fix things between CSI's.   
  
"I'll tell him he's forgiven Cath, he always was; there's not really anything to forgive." Greg felt relieved that he could admit that.   
  
She smiled lightly, "Good. That's what I wanted to here," she said, her tone now lighter.   
  
"…but Cath, just because people are having a rough time with me doesn't mean that I have to forgive every bad thing they say." Greg reminded/   
  
"I know Greg, I know." She understandingly.   
  
"…And Cath?"   
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I'm sorry to hear about your family. But I can't help you. I can't help you come to terms with anything; and I cant be sorry that my condition upsets you." Greg said, with honesty. He didn't say it to be cruel, but to be truthful.   
  
She smiled weakly.   
  
"I know Greg…"  
  
'I know' 


	23. Chapter 23

Hey reviewers. I'm back to updating (almost) daily.   
  
Thanks again for the reviews.   
  
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"…God, Sara! He's my friend, tell me!" Greg yelled, slamming down his coffee mug. The whole business was becoming infuriating.   
  
The source of the row was Nick. He'd been acting strange, coming in late, being abusive toward his friends…and Greg was sure everyone knew what was wrong.   
  
Everyone; except him. He hated the thought that the CSI's were keeping something from him.  
  
He especially hated the thought that they were keeping something from him because of his 'condition.'   
  
"No. Greg, if he wants to tell you, he will!" Sara said, patients wearing very thin. She had made a promise to Nick. And he had promised in return to tell Greg; but in his own time.   
  
"Sara, you told me that the worse thing about this place was being the last person to know something." Greg said calmly, trying to appeal to Sara's own values….   
  
"Greg, I was talking about you not telling us about your condition, this is different!"  
  
….He failed.   
  
"Does everyone else know?" Greg said curiously, trying to restrain his anger. He was mad at Nick, for not telling him, but he understood the burden of emotional pain.   
  
"Greg…I…" She said, looking at the walls, stuttering, searching for a believable statement.   
  
"Can't say?" Greg suggested, "That's great Sara! Out of everyone, I trusted you most…  
  
"…And I've done nothing to betray that trust!" Sara interrupted. She felt trapped.   
  
Tell Greg; Nick gets mad.  
  
Don't tell Greg: Greg gets mad.   
  
"Greg, just…just talk to him." Sara said in defeat.   
  
"I've tried, he wont tell me." Greg said, mimicking her tone.   
  
"He will…" Sara said, trying to console Greg with hope.   
  
Nick entered the break room. His clothes were creased, they looked like the same ones he wore for the last shift.  
  
Sara looked at him with concerned; she knew the problem, but Nick didn't even tell her what was going on in his head.   
  
He could be thinking anything.   
  
"Greg, can I talk to you….his voice trailed of, as he noticed that Sara was in the room, "…later?" he finished.   
  
"Sure." Greg said, trying hard not to unleash a load of questions.   
  
Nick looked between Sara and Greg, then quietly exited the room.   
  
"What did I tell you Greg?" Sara said smiling in triumph.   
  
Her smile hid both her concern.   
  
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Nick and Greg arranged to meet up later; at a 24/7 café. Nick was grateful for such establishments; it didn't matter what hours of the day you worked, you always got to drink something which resembled coffee, and usually contained much needed caffeine.   
  
Caffeine; a must when you have insomnia.   
  
It takes the edge off.  
  
"so….?" Greg said, trying to initiate a conversation between the pair.  
  
"…so…" Nick responded. He didn't know how to talk to anyone; let alone Greg anymore.   
  
"Talk to me Nick. Tell me what's been happening with you," Greg said quietly, with concern.   
  
"It's difficult." Nick responded.   
  
He'd prepared for this conversation; but now, he didn't seem to have the right words to say.  
  
The words left him as soon as he saw Greg's worried expression.   
  
"Difficult? Everyone seems to know at CSI apart from me! It can't be that difficult." Greg exclaimed, his eyes searched Nicks face for some kind of answer.   
  
"Greg, you ever had a gun pulled on you?" Nick said suddenly, looking up from his coffee.  
  
"What?" Greg questioned, wondering where this line of questioning was going, wondering if it was a metaphor for something else.   
  
Nick sighed, and looked away, "This has been my, fourth, maybe fifth time. Before, I was unarmed – once Griss 'saved me' – but this time, I had my gun drawn, and I just couldn't…" his voice became choked.  
  
"…Shoot?" Greg suggested quietly.   
  
"Yeah." Nick said in agreement. "Purp knocked it clear form my hand, if Brass hadn't been around…" He squeezed his empty plastic coffee cup in disgust.   
  
Greg closed his eyes, he searched for the right words.   
  
"Nick, you aren't a cop, God only knows why CSI's carry a gun around," greg said reassuringly.   
  
Nick shook his head in disagreement, "I froze Greg, I clear froze. What happens if the stakes where higher, what if…"  
  
"…'What if's' don't do anyone any good." Greg said forcefully, Greg knew this…  
  
There was a moment of awkward silence, as the pair searched through there minds.   
  
"I can't do this anymore." Nick said finally.   
  
"What?" Greg exclaimed in disbelief.   
  
"I can't be a CSI Greg, not anymore, I'm to much of a liability." Nick said, the realisation only hitting him fully after the words escaped his mouth.   
  
"Nick, listen to what you're saying." Greg said with concern.   
  
"I know what I'm saying Greg." Nick said, trying to suppress the anger. He'd mentioned the idea to both Warrick and Sara, and they'd both scaled him; told him he wasn't seeing straight.  
  
But it sometimes takes bad things to help you see straight; right?   
  
"Give it some time…" greg suggested, his brow furrowing.  
  
"…I have, but I guess you've been to busy arguing with Warrick, and being paly with Sara to notice." Nick yelled angrily. He didn't mean to; he hadn't slept in a while; and when he did catch a nap, he woke in a cold sweat, seeing the purp…  
  
….seeing the gun…   
  
He looked at Greg, who was giving him a cold stare.   
  
'Apologise' came a voice from his mind.   
  
"Sorry, that was uncalled for, I'm just a little…" Nick began.   
  
"…Stressed? Exactly! That's why you need to think." Greg said, trying to reinforce his argument. He didn't want Nick to leave. Not now. Not when he needed friends; yes, he knew it was selfish.   
  
"My minds made up Greg. It's not just all this, I've been thinking about this for a while." Nick said honestly, his eyes desperately searching Greg's face for acceptance.   
  
"What will you do?"   
  
"I was thinking about touring, seeing a bit of the world, you know? I'm still young, handsome…and, well, I was thinking…" Nick stopped, and stared at Greg.   
  
"What?" Greg said, wondering why Nick had stopped.   
  
"Come with me."   
  
"What?" Greg said, hating to repeat himself, but now it was shock about what Nick was suggesting.   
  
"We're both young Greg, there's so much too see, we could do this together, meet some gals, find new jobs." Nick said, trying to show all the possibilities available to them.   
  
"I cant believe what you're suggesting," Greg said, his disapproval apparent.   
  
"Greg, I'm not proposing marriage!" Nick said with a small grin, "And I'm not telling you to quit either…just take some time off." Nick suggested, he didn't want Greg to feel like he was abandoning him.   
  
"I can't nick, I need to stay here. I barely know how I am anymore…" Greg said awkwardly, trying not to bring too much of his own problems into the argument.   
  
He could only hope Nick wasn't leaving because he couldn't deal with him.  
  
With the Parkinson's.   
  
"Yeah! So get away from all of this! Find yourself." Nick said, hoping it would convince Greg to stay.   
  
"I'm sorry Nick. I need to stay here." Greg said, with an air of finality.   
  
Greg believed Nick didn't know what he was asking. Unlike Sara, Nick hadn't seen the full-blown tremors. Greg wondered if he could cope with him.   
  
Nick sighed; he'd tried to convince Greg, but failed.   
  
"Ill miss you G man." Nick said, trying not to sound to sentimental.   
  
"You sure you want to do this?"   
  
"Hell yeah!" Nick yelled happily, trying to see the positive side, "Get out of Vegas, see things, do things…meet people." Nick said happily.   
  
"The lab shouldn't become your life Greg."   
  
"I know." Greg insisted. "Ill miss you too Nick." He admitted.   
  
They both smiled at this, and then simultaneously started to laugh.   
  
Greg exhaled hard before saying, in all seriousness;   
  
"If this turns out to be a candid camera show – you're gonna pay."   
  
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This is going to sound weird but; every time I write a male character talking with another male character, I'm sure it sounds slashy. I don't know why. Probably just paranoia. But if it does sound like slash, please tell me, ill try and modify it.   
  
  
  
As always, please review.   
  
And encase you didn't know…my reviewers rock! 


	24. Chapter 24

Hey again, I doubt I'll be able to get this all finished by Sunday – sorry. However it most likely will be done in the next week.   
  
Thanks for all your reviews…you guys are great!   
  
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Greg stood in Grissom's office, very quietly. He willed Grissom to look at him; he refused to announce his presence.   
  
He was incredibly mad right now. Nick had told Grissom about his plans to leave; and Grissom had already signed it. No discussion; no meetings with the other CSI's. Nick basically announced he was leaving at the end of a shift – no plans were made for a party – and they couldn't even have a subsequent party. Nick was taking a flight out of Vegas that night; up to New York. He was planning on having a road trip down the east coast – then flying out to Europe.   
  
He left two days ago. Grissom had refused point-blank to discuss it. Sara was giving him the silent treatment.   
  
Basically everyone was projecting their bad feelings about Nick leaving onto Grissom…but right now, Greg didn't really care.   
  
Sometimes blame was a good thing. Grissom could have handled it differently; said something; said anything.   
  
But everything occurred behind closed doors.   
  
And now, he hated Grissom. He'd let Nick leave.   
  
Grissom had allowed his best friend to leave. And Greg felt so helpless; he knew Nick was planning on leaving; but not so soon.   
  
"Yes?" Grissom said, slightly annoyed – he hadn't realised Greg was standing there – and had no idea how long he had been.   
  
His hearing had gone again. Well, he assumed it had; some days the lab was so quiet, it was hard to tell.   
  
"Why'd you let him leave," Greg said, staring coldly at Grissom, folding his arms. Greg no-longer felt afraid of Grissom; because he wasn't so different.   
  
Grissom had his ways; but that didn't make his special – he applied pressure, and he took himself way too seriously. It gave him an aloof air. But that was nothing to be afraid of.   
  
Greg was loosing his fear of most things.   
  
Because if you cant even control your own body; and know if will eventually kill you; what else is there to be afraid of?   
  
Grissom sighed, and took his glasses off, "he wanted to leave Greg, I couldn't stop him," Grissom stressed. He didn't want this conversation.   
  
He'd had enough with Sara giving him condemning looks.   
  
"You're his boss, of course you could have!" Greg yelled.   
  
"Greg," Grissom started, thinking about how to phrase his answer carfully enough not to be rebuked, "this isn't an office job. In an office job, you can go in and not care about your work. You and your work can be totally separate. Working here, with what we do is different. We…we need to be at our best."   
  
"He was a good team player." Greg said, desperately trying to clutch at straws in Nicks defence.   
  
"Greg, this isn't about you," Grissom said, hoping Greg would take the hint.   
  
"What?" Greg responded, completely oblivious to what Grissom was referring to   
  
"You're afraid that because you think I let nick go easily, I might not put up a fight to keep you." Grissom said honestly.   
  
Greg stared at Grissom, but his stare in returned forced his eyes elsewhere, 'how does he know these things?' Greg thought. It occasionally annoyed Greg; Grissom was perceptive, he had incite into things that you did, he made observations on your behaviour. And the observations were accurate. Maybe to accurate.   
  
"He was good at his job – and you just let him go." Greg said, hoping that Grissom would give him an explanation. He needed something. Just because he wasn't afraid of anything, didn't mean he didn't want reassurance.   
  
Because in the end; how ever much you believe you care about others, its all selfish. The only motivation is self-preservation. You believe you are doing things for others, but you are really doing them for yourself.   
  
Nick was a good friend; having him gone meant less people to make his life easier. It was best to think of people that way; as tools. When you loose a tool you don't get upset.   
  
Greg sighed in defeat. Talking to Grissom was not unlike trying to get blood from a stone. "I guess," Greg said, heading for the door.   
  
But before he did, Grissom spoke again. "Greg, shut the door, I need to talk about something else," He said, his tone was serious.   
  
"What?" Greg questioned, shutting the door, and sitting on the chair opposite Grissom.   
  
"I'm getting a new lab tech." Grissom said forcefully.   
  
Greg turned pale. 'Did he just say that?' Greg thought; it was a shocking blow.   
  
"You're replacing me?" Greg said, concern trembling his voice.   
  
"Yes, no, no I'm not." Grissom stumbled, "I'm getting a new lab tech - they can work part time along side you." Grissom clarified.   
  
"What? Get me to train them, then out me?" Greg said bitterly with cynicism.   
  
"I'm not saying that Greg! For one, Greg, you have to admit that your condition does disable you. I know that's hard to admit…" Grissom swallowed, he only knew too well how hard it was to admit disabilities. "…But you have to admit it. But I've been thinking about this for awhile; before you ever got diagnosed. The labs stretched – we need more lab techs." Grissom insisted.   
  
"I guess it would be nicer not to be so rushed of my feet." Greg said, with a small smile, trying to be positive. All he could hope was that Grissom was speaking the truth.   
  
Greg sighed, and got up, he open his mouth, but hesitated before speaking.   
  
"You know grissom, it doesn't matter to me." Greg said seriously.   
  
"What?" Grissom questioned, assuming he was referring to a new lab tech.   
  
"Hearing isn't everything."   
  
Grissom half-laughed, "What do you mean Greg?" Grissom said lightly, trying to brush the comment off. 'Surely Greg didn't know?'   
  
"I may not be a CSI Grissom, but some things…you screen out during meetings, you watch peoples lips, you know sign language…most people who know how to sign either know someone who's deaf…but linked with the other signs…"   
  
Grissom cut him off, "Greg I'm not…"  
  
"…Grissom, it, it doesn't matter to me. I'm not going to tell anyone."   
  
From Grissom's response; Greg was now sure of it. Grissom had problems with his hearing.   
  
And he hadn't told anyone.   
  
And he was managing.   
  
Greg wondered if it had been a good idea to tell others about his diagnosis; things had gone down hill since then.   
  
He could have managed…  
  
…if no one noticed Grissom's hearing, surely no one would notice his tremors?  
  
He felt sick with regret.   
  
All this pain could have been avoided.   
  
If only he'd stayed quiet… 


	25. Chapter 25

I count 3/4(ish) more chapters after this. The chapter will probably be quite long. Again, thanks for all the reviews.   
  
Me psychology? Well…I've only just enrolled in a course for it (3 days ago!). I do enjoy studying the motives behind a persons actions.   
  
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Greg scowled at her, when she turned her back. She was really beginning to frustrate him. The same frustration obtained from a child constantly asking 'why.'   
  
She; being the new lab tech. Her name was Libby Andrews. She was blonde; and seemed to act like it. Greg had no-idea why she'd been hired; yes, she knew her way round a microscope, but that was about it. She didn't seem to understand the lab processed crimes. She constantly flirted with Warrick, and the new CSI.   
  
He hated the way that she insisted on carrying out a lot of unnecessary procedures.   
  
He felt trapped. This used to be his own personal space. But she had invaded it. It also annoyed him how she would give out his results freely; even if she had no part in processing them.   
  
Greg was beginning to wonder if she was a relation to Ecklie; just tool to make the night shift suffer.   
  
"Please," She wined from behind him. She pouted. Greg scowled. She knew just enough about science to be dangerous. He secretly hopped that in a couple of weeks, that her spirit would be squashed, or that she'd quit.   
  
Because she was driving him crazy.   
  
"Do you have any idea how long I've worked in this lab," Greg said, asserting his authority. He stood up, and stood inches from her.   
  
"Look, I'm not saying your wrong! Just an extra 10,000g's" she pleaded. She wanted to show him that she wasn't an idiot – that she did understand scientific processors. People seemed to assume that because she was blonde and outgoing – that she was stupid. She knew on occasions that should could be slightly…dense…but wasn't everyone from time-to-time?   
  
She tried to be cheerful; Catherine had mentioned to her that Greg had something wrong with him – but she didn't say what. It scared her – when she was a round him she felt nervous – and to cover it up she acted a bit ditsy deliberately.   
  
She wanted to show she was capable, but not threaten him at the same time. She was guessing she got the mixture wrong…again.   
  
"Why do you want the mitochondrion?" Greg questioned angrily.   
  
"Hunch," she said simply. She shrugged and dropped her smile. He'd been on her case all day.   
  
"We're lab techs, not CSI's, we process what we're told to," he felt like he was lecturing, but he couldn't help it.   
  
She frowned, "Well, you might want be a lab tech all your life, but I'm reaching higher," She said seriously, before turning on her heels and leaving.   
  
'reaching higher…' he knew what that meant. She wanted to be a CSI.   
  
Being a CSI had been one of Greg's ambitions, but over the years, the notion had diminished.   
  
He saw what it was doing to Sara. She was like two different people; the normal happy one, and the obsessive-compulsive person. Both were insomniacs.   
  
No. Greg was happy being a lab tech. He did all the things a CSI did, he solved puzzles, he made hypothesis, he just got to do it in the safety of the lab.   
  
'Safety of the lab…' the words echoed in his mind. Howveer much Greg wanted the lab to return to its former essence, it wouldn't. He would never feel completely safe here.   
  
He guessed he must of gotten to complacent before.   
  
The other bonus of being in the lab was the lack of criminals. In that way, he did admire the CSI's. It must be hard to go into a room with a murderer, rapist or paedophile.   
  
Then the thought occurred to Greg, he probably couldn't become a CSI even if he wanted to…  
  
'….I have no future…'   
  
His thoughts were interrupted by Sara's entrance,   
  
"Got some…"  
  
"…leave it on the pile." He said, cutting of her statement. He really wanted to be alone – something he hardly was these days; Libby was usually towering behind him asking what he was doing, or if he needed help.   
  
"Greg, this is for the turner case," Sara said, trying to hint that it was probably more important than what he was doing. He looked tired. She thought having a new lab tech around would take some of the stress of him, but in reality, he looked more stress than usual.   
  
'Another one of Grissom's brilliant plans,' she thought to herself. 'He's making Greg train a new lab tech – now that's not going to be stressful – why didn't he get one with experience?'   
  
"I said…" Greg began angrily, but when he saw Sara's shocked facial expression, he lowered his voice, "Just, leave it, over there." He said, indicating to a pile of papers.   
  
Sara winced, "You ok Greg?" she said cautiously, not wanting to risk another outburst.   
  
"Sara, a piece of advice for you, never ask a person with Parkinson's if they 'feel' ok." Greg only slightly regretted his words. They were true, and right now he meant them, but he really didn't want to argue with anyone. He didn't have the energy.   
  
"Greg, I just…"  
  
"Forget it Sara! I've had enough ok? I didn't ask to be ill…I don't want to be ill anymore." He admitted, his tone sad.   
  
"Greg…you kinda don't get a choice in this," she said, trying not to sound to serious.  
  
"Maybe I do." He said giving her a cold stare. He sound like he was being deadly serious.   
  
"Greg don't talk like that, don't ever talk like that!" She scalded, her voicing increasing in volume. She didn't like the look on his face. It was too serious.   
  
"Why not! Grissom's already got someone in to replace me; she already has higher job prospects than me…" he yelled, 'and a longer life span.'   
  
"Greg! She doesn't have a patch on you! She's just some immature graduate who…"  
  
"…I don't want to hear it Sara." He rebuked, he didn't feel like being comforted.   
  
"Yeah, but it doesn't matter what you want to hear Greg. I'm telling you what I see." She said sarcastically. She just wanted him to be happy.   
  
"I'm just down today Sara, and I hate to say it, but I really don't like this new lab tech." He said, admitting more things than he wanted to. He just wanted her to know he was just angry, not angry with her.   
  
"Yeah, she's a bit of an air head" she said thoughtfully, but not cruelly, "– everything she does is hit and miss – but she's new! But you know I'd prefer for you to process DNA to you any day Greg," she said, her smile turning into more of a grin.   
  
He sighed, he wanted to smile, but he couldn't.   
  
…and it broke her heart to see him this unhappy.   
  
A silence emanated from both of them. Sara felt sickened by his sadness.   
  
She felt the same helpless way every time she saw his tremors.   
  
She stood there, and she didn't know what to say; and it didn't look like Greg was going to say anything.   
  
And she didn't know what to do.   
  
The silence was broken by the insistent 'beeps' of Sara's pager   
  
"It's Grissom," she said in monotone, he gaze returning to Greg's form.   
  
"Go," he said, making it sound like the obvious thing to do.   
  
"But I'll see you later right?" She said, her voice, and façade both heavily expressing her concern.   
  
"Your case needs you." Greg said, avoiding the question.  
  
"Tell me I'll see you later…" "…I'll see you later Sara." He said, his voice over lapping hers, trying to reassure her, not sure if he meant his words.   
  
She wanted to scream 'don't lie to me!' at him. She was worried; was it justified? Was he for real? He wasn't the one reassuring her earlier that he was fine. He didn't seem fine. His serious words echoed in her mind   
  
Her pager started beeping again, and she looked back to him again, he smiled lightly, and mouthed, "go" to her.   
  
She was torn.   
  
'Damn Grissom' she thought, and reluctantly left Greg.   
  
'He'll be fine' she thought, as she took one last look at him through the glass panel.  
  
'He'll be fine'  
  
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Cliffhanger? Not really. Well maybe. Sorry.   
  
Hmm…the closest I'll get to blond is by bleaching my hair, then buying a dye…  
  
As always, please review. 


	26. Chapter 26

Sorry for any errors in the last chapter – I didn't proof read.   
  
I think there is going to be 2 more chapters after this.   
  
Note: I have no idea if any references have been made to the type of property Greg has. So if I mess up, I'm sorry.   
  
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Sara frantically rushed round the lab; looking for Greg. She was checking each room – she wasn't going to miss him. She was determined to check in on him – even force him to stay with her for the night – go to the movies or something.   
  
Do something to make him see life is worth living.   
  
All the time she'd spent gathering fresh evidence; she was thinking of Greg. She did try and get away early, but Grissom had insinuated that she was showing lack of commitment. She hated that; it was like an ultimate hold on her.   
  
If someone said she wasn't showing 100% - she was determined to prove them wrong.   
  
She just hoped that her stubbornness hadn't caused any adverse problems with Greg.   
  
She didn't want him to feel that she'd abandoned her.   
  
Then again, he might have been more considerate if she actually told him she was worried about Greg.   
  
She probably should have told Grissom something. But she couldn't. She couldn't tell him anything, because she wasn't too sure about what had happened.   
  
The conversation with Greg happened so quickly, and now seemed so hazy. Like a dream you thought you'd had.   
  
Anyway, it was more about what he looked like, than what he actually said.   
  
He looked so desolate. So lost.   
  
So empty.   
  
She checked the AV lab, to find that Warrick was using the facilities to play a PS2 game against Archie.   
  
"Men." She muttered in a disgruntled tone before leaving.   
  
Sara shook her head, and continued looking as she heard the distant cry of, 'hey, no fair – Sara made me jump – and I missed.' It seemed unreal – how sperate people were in the lab.   
  
You assume when something was wrong – other people would /feel/ it – like a family. But they didn't. Things continued.   
  
She stopped for a moment, and shuddered; remembering.   
  
This frantic search reminded her of something.   
  
It was like the time she was following grissom before the explosion…  
  
…And the sickening thought occurred that Greg had done something.   
  
She began to run…  
  
…Only to run into a blonde also not looking where she was going.   
  
"Watch where you're going!" Sara exclaimed angrily, staring menacingly at Libby. She pursed her lips, and stared at the blonde.   
  
"I wasn't the only one not watching where I was going," she rebuked, using a hand to smooth out some imaginary creases. She wasn't going to be pushed around anymore.   
  
She was fed up of the people at the lab shouting at her. They all seemed to do it. Grissom, Greg, Cath… Just because she was new, and not as experienced as everyone, didn't mean they could push her around.   
  
Sara was about to respond with a sarcastic comment based around a blonde joke, but decided against it. Her priority for now, as Greg. She just gave Libby an irked look, then brushed by her to continue looking.   
  
"If you're looking for Greg…" a quiet voice cam from behind her.   
  
Sara turned, and paced toward the lab tech.   
  
"Where is he?" Sara demanded.   
  
Libby was taken aback by this domineering tone, "He left, he said he didn't feel well." She stuttered, not realising why it was so important.   
  
"How long ago?"   
  
"About…well, about two hours ago," Libby answered.   
  
"Right," Sara said, placing her hands on her hips, trying to think of the right thing to do, "when Grissom gets back to the lab, tell him…wait, forget that. Don't tell him anything. Let him see what it's like to be ignored." She said scornfully, before turning on her heels.   
  
But before she could leave, Libby grabbed her arm in a firm grasp.   
  
Libby saw her chance. Sara was vulnerable – and desperate to find Greg. Now may be her only chance to find out some answers, "Sara, I know you hate me, I know half the lab does. Just tell me what's wrong with him, maybe if I knew I coul-"  
  
Sara pulled her arm free of Libby's grasp,   
  
"He has Parkinson's. Happy?" She said bitterly, making a mental note to make sure that Libby suffered for her inquisitive tendencies.   
  
Libby watched Sara leave. She was actually stunned. She didn't realise that Greg was that ill; she had seen him shake, but most people in the lab seemed to, especially around the coffee machine.   
  
Even though she didn't know him well, even the thought of a person having something like that made her feel sad. She didn't know much about Parkinson's – she knew that it was serious and usually ended up killing a person.   
  
She realised that her behaviour had probably made things worse.   
  
'Chalk one-up for non-blondes' she thought silently.   
  
-----------------------------------------------------------  
  
Sara ran to her Tahoe. She felt compelled to check on him. She hated thinking that Greg was capable of hurting himself.   
  
But she kept seeing that look on his face.  
  
And his words echoed in her mind.  
  
She tried phone – no answer. She silently cursed as she ran a red light. It was lightly raining – crating a fine mist on the windshield, which blurred the harsh lights in the Las Vegas darkness.   
  
She got to the block of executive flats – and ran up the stairs – which was no mean feat – It was a high-rise – and Greg's flat was almost on the top floor. She'd only been here once before – when she offered to give Greg a lift into work.   
  
She got to his flat and knocked.   
  
No answer.   
  
She frantically started looking round. She was worried – should she have told Grissom? Should she phone the police? Should she try and break-in?   
  
A voice broke into her indecisive thoughts.   
  
"You looking for sanders?" the voice said, she looked round to see someone who looked like a doctor – he was wearing a rain jacket over green scrubs, which were lightly spattered in blood.   
  
"Yeah, you seen him?" She said, trying not to show too much concern, after all, she was only assuming he was a doctor, and that blood was from a patient, he could be anyone.   
  
"Well, I saw him about an hour ago – before I was called back to the ER, you know how work is…"  
  
"Yeah" she said interrupting him quickly, she didn't want his life story – she just wanted to know what he knew about Greg.   
  
The guy saw that Sara looked in a hurry, "he was heading up there –" he said, indicating to another stairwell, "– only thing up there is the roof."  
  
Sara's eyes widened with fear, she ran with shear terror for the stairs…  
  
'God, Greg, Please say you haven't done anything stupid…Please…'   
  
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Cliffhanger? Maybe. It's all a matter of perception.   
  
To the reader, it's a cliffhanger.   
  
To the writer; it's merely a plot device/chapter end. Hee.   
  
Please review. [Sorry again for any errors – if I proof read – I end up taking all the emotion out] 


	27. Chapter 27

This chapter would have been up sooner – except I couldn't access FF.net  
  
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Sara ran up the stairs; she feared the worst. Her only comfort was that if someone had jumped of the roof, there would have been sirens.   
  
Sirens and CSI's.   
  
Her lungs ached, and she silently cursed the position of Greg's flat.  
  
Images of all the 'jump' suicides appeared in her mind.   
  
The first DB she saw in Vegas was a 'jumper.'   
  
Her muscles began to fill with pain as her respiration switched to anaerobic, and the fear was beginning to make her shake. Her stomach knotted. She was exhausted – her fear was both providing energy, and taking her strength away.   
  
She got to the roof….  
  
….and that's when she saw him.   
  
She'd know that outline anywhere.   
  
The rain was driving down hard. It was so fine, it seemed to drench her in seconds. Each droplet was freezing. It would be morning soon.  
  
And even though she could see him, her eyes began to fill with tears.   
  
She wasn't one to cry.   
  
Crying showed weakness.   
  
She was a woman in a man's world; long ago she'd convinced and conditioned herself to not burst out in tears.   
  
She could tell he was soaked, even from this distance.   
  
She gingerly moved closer.   
  
^*^  
  
Greg was sitting on the edge of the building, legs freefalling. He had, indeed, been up there for quite awhile; thinking about things.   
  
Weighing up options.   
  
"Greg," Sara called softly, the last thing she wanted to do was startle him, or make him feel he was cornered.   
  
She edged closer.   
  
He didn't falter; he either didn't hear her, or had chose not to respond.   
  
"Greg," She called, again, looking to the floor she was stepping on, trying not to make any sudden movements.   
  
She was about a metre behind him. She didn't want to get any closer; first out of fear for herself, and secondly; there was still a small chance he hadn't heard her.   
  
She closed her eyes, and exhaled softly. Her body protested, it was exhausted. She needed to sit down….  
  
…And although all the warning signs screamed in her mind, she edged closer, and slowly sat beside Greg, but instead of hanging her legs over the edge, she sat with her back to the landscape.   
  
"Hey," she said, she could see his face.   
  
He looked like he'd been crying…  
  
…but it could have been the rain.   
  
He gave a very fain smile, without looking at her, just to acknowledge her presence.   
  
She searched her mind for words to say, she had no idea how to act, so she just began to speak, and only hopped she said the right thing.  
  
"You know I come out to the roof sometimes; get away from it all." She said, trying to sound upbeat, but failing. "But.." her voice began to crack, "usually it's day time, and I don't sit so close to the edge." She struggled ending the sentence.   
  
Sometimes you could see things; and still not believe them.   
  
It was hard to believe that he was sitting on the edge of a building. It was unthinkable to imagine he wanted to end…it.   
  
"We're always on the edge Sara," He said quietly, his tone was eerily serious.   
  
"I guess, you could say that…" Sara said, not wanting to be confrontational, or questioning, but she didn't know what he was referring to. She assumed it was death; but she didn't wasn't to entertain the notion in conversation.   
  
Greg sighed, and decided it wasn't worth explaining. He thought someone…he thought she might come. They'd grown much closer recently. She was the only one who seemed to even begin to comprehend how he felt – and tried to support him.   
  
Nick had left; and now he considered her one of his closest friends.   
  
Maybe one of his only friends.   
  
She tried to smile through the pain, "you weren't thinking of jumping where you?" She cringed at the mere idea.   
  
"No." He said shortly.   
  
She sighed, "Don't lie to me Greg." She said, almost yelled, in frustration. She hated to think it; but she knew it was the truth.   
  
"You have no idea what this is like Sara." He stated, looking at her. She looked worse for where; he could tell she was attempting to hold back the tears.   
  
But t was hard to feel anything – he just spent over an hour up here convincing himself that no one cared.   
  
It was hard to continually believe that now she was here.   
  
She was here; wasn't she? She must care? Or was she here out of guilt and duty?   
  
"No, I don't Greg. Not if you don't tell me." She said, her voice cutting into his thought.   
  
"I'm so afraid, and I feel like I have no right to be." He admitted, after all, it didn't matter anymore. It didn't matter what she thought of him.   
  
"…Why?" She questioned; in her opinion, if anyone had a right to be afraid, it was Greg.   
  
"I'm still alive. It's not like I'm in pain all the time. There are people out there a lot worse than me." His voice sounded pitying, even though he didn't mean it to be.   
  
Sara felt lost for words again. She hated seeing anyone in pain. And she hated even more seeing him in pain. "Greg, you can't control how you feel. And it's ok to be sad sometimes…."  
  
"…But it's not ok to go sit on the edge of a building." He said sarcastically. He didn't want her pity – that would make any future decisions harder. And they were already hard enough.   
  
Both looked up instantaneously, to question the sky.   
  
The rain had ceased.   
  
Having her here made him confused – he didn't want her to be here – but now she was, he didn't want her to leave.   
  
Greg sighed deeply, he felt compelled to talk," I feel like every time I talk to someone about this, I loose a piece of myself. I become slightly more vulnerable. It makes you see me differently." Greg said honestly.   
  
Sara shook her head. She had been on a course – learned about the correct thing to do in this situation – coax them away from the edge – be understanding…but this was Greg.   
  
Her friend.   
  
Rules don't apply.   
  
He saw her helpless face, and felt obliged to give her more reasons. He hated having to justify himself…but maybe it would make things easier for them both if she knew why.   
  
"I can't think straight Sara. Do you know what it's like to go into work and feel like you're training up the person who's going to replace you?" He said, his face; empty – his voice; empty.   
  
"I don't Greg," she said sympathetically, "but even if she does eventually replace you is this…" she swallowed involuntarily, "…it this going to help anything?" she questioned, her voice and façade full of concern.   
  
"It'd take me out the equation." He said with an air of finality.   
  
"Some of us like you in the equation," she rebuked seriously.  
  
He was taken aback by this comment. Her words were usually so playful – but this one truck hard.   
  
"I don't want to hurt anyone,…" he said, his voice week, "but I have to start think about what's best for me." He continued more confidently.   
  
"Ok, if you're aloud to want the best for yourself – so am, I! I don't want you to do anything stupid, I didn't want Nick to leave; I don't want to be constantly hating Grissom for saying the wrong things…" she started ranting loudly.   
  
"…And I don't want to be ill Sara." He said sadly.   
  
"We don't get what we want Greg, we both know that. You gotta make the best of what you've got." She pleaded.   
  
There was a silence shared between them, and Sara looked sideways to stare at his face, and he looked toward her.   
  
Her expression was conveying a silent plea. They sat there for some time. Just looking at each other.   
  
Because they said all they could say…  
  
…And Sara knew that in the end, she couldn't change his mind.  
  
…Gradually, light was cast across both of their faces. And both turned, in Sara's case; awkwardly turned, toward the horizon.   
  
The sun was rising.   
  
"I never knew something could be so beautiful." Greg muttered quietly, staring at the band of visible sunlight.   
  
She smiled at him.   
  
"If you jumped Greg, you would have never seen that beauty." She said quietly.   
  
And he returned her smile.  
  
And suddenly, being there wasn't so terrible anymore.   
  
And when she saw his expression…she realised everything was going to be ok.   
  
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Ok, I can see where this might be perceived as shippy. But it's not deliberate. Just exploring the dynamic. No, really. Hee.   
  
I think the next chapter will be the last.   
  
As always, please review. 


	28. Chapter 28

AN: Last chapter. The structure will make sense.   
  
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1 Year Later.   
  
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It's weird….  
  
…The way the mind works.   
  
One day it can cope, the next day; it's overwhelmed. And it's the little things that push you over the edge. Because the little things add up. A word…a look…something that makes you feel that life is pointless….  
  
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It was disconcerting watching Grissom go in for his operation. It seemed to aggravate the teams emotions, they were suddenly very aware that just because one bad thing is happening, it doesn't mean another can't coincide with it.   
  
The operation was a success.   
  
It was hard to watch someone being 'fixed' and knowing that could never happen for you.   
  
But he was glad Grissom was back; hearing intact. After the operation Grissom seemed more reluctant to talk to him. Before they frequently had conversations – usually dwelling on there conditions.   
  
------ "Greg" ------  
  
But they…couldn't now. Grissom was 'better' – he no longer had the same fear that Greg did – that he'd eventually be forced to quit.   
  
…. He wouldn't have minded talking about anything.   
  
But that was the problem with Grissom. No room for small talk.   
  
He didn't really 'talk' either. He 'conversed.' His words were full of pragmatics, metaphors, and other general literary confusion.   
  
But it was nice to talk to someone. Someone who wasn't constantly insisting 'everything's going to be alright,' without the courage to back the statement.   
  
Warrick was ok. He'd been different since Nick left; he took himself more seriously. Greg guessed it was not just because they were close friends; but when Nick was around, he could mess around; just be a guy.   
  
------ "Greg?" ------  
  
--- Greg swore he had heard his name called – twice now. 'It's just the drugs' he thought to himself. ---  
  
Warrick did talk to Greg about his condition – well, he tried. When things got to difficult, he seemed to ignore him.   
  
But Greg no longer resented him for that.   
  
Because he did it too.   
  
When things got difficult, with his condition, with anything; he ignored it.   
  
And although he might not want people around him to take the same course of action, it'd be hypocritical to blame them for something he did himself.   
  
Distractions aside, tremors are a difficult thing to ignore. People assume that if you're wrapped up in something – that the tremors don't bother you.   
  
People are wrong.   
  
He still, on occasions, attempted to hide them. Grissom had told him he didn't need to. Greg had rebuked that if he could hide his deafness, he could hide his tremors.   
  
Anyway, he only did it if he felt it would make someone very uncomfortable.   
  
------ "Can you hear me Greg?" ------  
  
---The voice again. It was soft; and sounded far away. ---  
  
---The voice could wait. ---  
  
Nick had sent him a post card the other day.  
  
He actually apologised for leaving him. He didn't realise what he was doing until he'd gone. And he really believed that he needed to get away from it all.   
  
He'd planned to go across Europe, but had stopped as soon as he got to Spain.   
  
He met a girl. And from what'd he'd written, it sounded like he was going to settle down with her.   
  
'About time' Catherine had commented earlier, when he showed the other CSI's the card.   
  
Grissom had objected to the postcard being placed on the notice board – because of the front image - he said it would constitute as sexual harassment.   
  
Catherine said she'd worn less as an exotic dancer.   
  
Catherine; well, she had become more 'parental' – well that's the word Sara chose. She seemed to constantly want to know how he was, if his symptoms were worse, if he was taking his meds or not…  
  
…He'd found her crying a few times. Not 'crying' in the usual way but in the 'CSI' way –blurry eyes and few tears – no outbursts. She confessed a few things to him; about her own medical problems.   
  
It was hard to see her like that; Catherine always seemed so strong, it was rare to see her in moments of weakness, and it made him feel so helpless.   
  
------ "Greg…Please? Wake up?" ------  
  
He could never believe how supportive Sara had been. She was the only one who seemed to act relatively normal round him…  
  
The thought of her made him smile. She never did tell anyone to his knowledge about the time on the roof.   
  
He was incredibly grateful for that. The last thing he wanted to do was go to a therapist or have Grissom make him take leave.  
  
He felt he needed to be around people.   
  
They met up regularly now – him and Sara - and he knew it wasn't just for his own benefit. She said she enjoyed getting out; she enjoyed being with someone who wouldn't be instantly repelled if she mentioned a case – like all her other friends were.   
  
He enjoyed the way she was always honest and open with him.   
  
Greg could feel the sun warming his face his body, it penetrated his lab coat. Not that he was one for sun; he'd just ended up lying there.   
  
He felt strangely at peace. Whatever happens to you things will carry on.  
  
The lab carried on without Nick well enough. Sure there was some angst about his method of leaving but there are worse ways to leave a job.   
  
He didn't seem so uncomfortable anymore.   
  
People were no longer 'coping' – they were just being themselves.   
  
Sure; he knew that some of them were freaked out by it, especially when the saw the tremors.   
  
He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he open his eyes to find Sar kneeling over him, staring at him.   
  
"God! Greg, you scared me!" Sara yelled, fear in her eyes.   
  
"I was just resting," He responded, as though it was no big deal.   
  
"Resting? On the roof!" She exclaimed.   
  
Greg straightened up and smiled at her. "You told me you came up here when you needed to do some thinking…and I needed to do some thinking."  
  
"I just…" She began.  
  
"Don't" He responded, predicting her statement.   
  
"Anyway, suns shining, looks like its going to be a beautiful day," Greg said, looking up toward the sky, shielding his eyes from the suns rays.   
  
"Yeah," Sara said, she still sounded worried. She proceeded to sit down next to him.   
  
Greg could hear this worry, "There's no need to worry about me anymore Sara, I'm ok with everything." He said instantly.   
  
She looked away, " Just because you're ok today, doesn't mean you'll be ok tomorrow," she said sadly.   
  
"But I can hope" he said, optimism in his voice.   
  
Sara turned, a confused expression covered her face, which dissipated into a smile.   
  
"I guess," she said positively.   
  
"Bad things happen Sara, but life goes on. Look at Grissom; he got over it. His life's gone on." He said knowledgably.   
  
She smiled at this. Greg always said the most reassuring things. He was the most profound person she knew; even compared to Grissom – because she always understood what Greg was talking about – he made things clearer while still being perceptive.   
  
"Life goes on," she said in agreement, smiling at him.   
  
He smiled in return.   
  
'Life goes on'   
  
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It's weird….  
  
…. Although words and expressions can make you feel like life isn't worth living…  
  
… It's amazing how just one smile can make you feel that everything's worthwhile.   
  
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---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Fin ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
There we go. Final Chapter. As no one wanted me to kill Greg, I didn't. I've left it open.   
  
The response to this story, in my opinion, has been phenomenal. I want to thank all my reviewers; I've been really ill when writing this; and you're reviews always seemed to bring a smile to my face. You guys rock!   
  
An extra thanks to the people who have submitted multiple reviews, and have stuck with reading the story.   
  
- Lithium Shamrock (LIS) 


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